#had to make a piece of seraph to match

[midnightcrows]

Ocs. The Montagnet siblings. Aurelian, Séraphin, Evangeline

#had to make a piece of seraph to match #and touched up Evangeline’s so there’s more stars and depth #my art #my ocs #I’ve put a lot of thots into what features they each got from their parents #and the clothing styles they each go for w their occupations #aurelian got con's face shape nose and height sabrinas moles warm skin tone green eyes #seraph got con's hair color skintone and nose sabrina's mouth face shape and brows #evangeline got con's face shape eyes and mouth sabrina's nose moles and hair color #aurelian #seraph #digital art #evangeline #artists on tumblr

[inhuman-obey-me]

The Authoritarianism of "Father's" Celestial Realm (NB Season 2)

OKAY, life got crazy for a while, but we're finally all caught up on Nightbringer's main story, and PHEW we've got some things to talk about. So let's dive right in, starting with one of our favorite topics:

God and the Celestial Realm actually kinda suck in the OM universe!!!

(spoilers up to NB lesson 38!)

Now, this been a consistent pattern for most of OM's story and lore, but we're going to be focusing here mostly on Lessons 37 and 38 in particular this time, because they had a lot to talk about in that regard.

In Lesson 37, we are introduced to the underworld, specifically Cocytus at the very bottom layer of it.

One interesting note, however, is that this region is territory of the Celestial Realm, despite it being geographically in the Devildom, and the Celestial Realm is the one that doles out punishments relating to it -- usually. We'll dive more into that whole conspiracy in another post, but it's certainly an interesting geopolitical fact of the Three Realms.

As for the underworld itself, the idea of multiple layers of hell is a common one which originates from Dante's Inferno, the first section of the Divine Comedy, and we see that Cocytus here is taken pretty directly from that as well. Just like Dante describes in the Divine Comedy, Simeon informs us that there are four regions that make up Cocytus, made up of four concentric circles of growing intensity according to their corresponding offenses. Specifically, each layer of Cocytus is related to a type of betrayal: of family, of homeland, of guests, and finally, as the very worst type of betrayal, of "him".

The design of that is immediately very telling about how the Celestial Realm views these offenses. Other offenses may land a person in the underworld in general, but these specific types of betrayal are the worst. And among those worsts, betraying God is the ultimate offense, absolutely beyond anything else one could ever do.

Now, these levels of Cocytus almost directly match Dante's Inferno take on them -- with one major, interesting distinction. In the Divine Comedy, Judecca is for "traitors to masters and benefactors." In OM, it is traitors to "him." Considering that the rest of the levels are a direct match, this suggests that, in OM, their father is the master who must never be betrayed.

And as Mammon notes, that's exactly what our beloved demon brothers did, with Lucifer in the lead.

That brings us to the present situation, with Lucifer chained and suffering at the very center of the bottom of the underworld. The worst of the worst offenders.

Simeon, Luke, and MC arrive to find Lucifer in a screaming rage, noting that same fact. Lucifer is in such pain and rage that he's creating dangerously massive gusts of wind, and as he worries about MC and then his brothers, it only gets worse. Suddenly, Raphael appears to read Lucifer his charges. And then, we get this conversation:

There's a lot going on there, but to go piece by piece, Luke is obviously distraught upon hearing the brothers' decreed fate. He wants to protest it and argue against it. Simeon stops him because Luke absolutely must not say another word -- as a reminder, arguing against Lilith's punishment was the catalyst for the whole rebellion that ensued, which is the entire reason Lucifer is being punished like this now!

Simeon, however, has recently been demoted. We know he was a seraph at the time of the rebellion; the official Nightbringer website specifies that he was demoted for "covering for" the brothers, though we don't know the specifics of what happened there. Simeon has always been a little daring on speaking truth to power, and considering he's already been demoted, it seems he's willing to take the potential consequence of speaking up again here. So he does, expressing his questions and concerns about the whole situation going on. And, finally, he calls out Raphael on also feeling the same as he and Luke both do.

It is perhaps the most telling moment we've gotten to date of how Raphael has felt about this whole civil war between the angels. In the past, he's been fairly consistently strict about the Celestial Realm's rules, which essentially boil down to always obeying their father, and Michael by extension. And he holds himself to basically the same standards, obediently doing whatever Michael tells him to even as he's disgruntled or frustrated by the myriad requests. But when it comes to seeing Lucifer punished this way, he can't accept it either. It's wrong, and he knows it.

But he can't question decisions that come from on high. Even doubting is considered wrong.

We've heard the same from Lucifer once before -- that he questioned one who was never to be questioned. That is what he has been punished for.

This is the reason Luke must not speak up. This is the reason Raphael is crying. And it's the reason for Lucifer's current punishment. Simeon, Lucifer, and Raphael all know it implicitly -- what comes from on high is absolute. Questioning is unacceptable. Doubts are unacceptable. And rebellion is unacceptable -- the absolute worst thing that someone can do.

Anyway, now throw all that out though, because apparently Lesson 38 wants to attempt to bring us to a completely different conclusion!

Let's be honest here -- OM is a bit jumpy on its writing sometimes, and sometimes makes wild left turns. But we ended Lesson 37 feeling pretty excited because it's revisiting a common theme we've had hinted at throughout both games about what kind of leader their father is and what kind of place the Celestial Realm really is under him. And what we've seen, generally, is this: it is a very strict place, unforgiving of those who step out of line, where their father's word is absolute, and even feeling doubt is a grave offense. We even know that Simeon's greatest fear is their father!

So imagine our shock and disappointment when Lesson 38 suddenly decides that, no, actually, this punishment and everything else is actually God's love for them. What?!

New theory: exactly one person on OM's writing team is actually super religious and keeps trying to make this game about dating demons into a message that God is good. These lessons were not written by the same person.

Lesson 38 starts with a rather chaotic scene -- Lucifer has broken free of his chains and is lashing out in rage and despair, not thinking straight. Diavolo makes his appearance and tries to subdue Lucifer, though the two end up going into an all-out brawl as Lucifer lashes out at Diavolo as well. MC eventually intervenes and the brothers show up to protect MC from both Lucifer's and Diavolo's attacks. Lucifer is taken aback seeing that his brothers are all okay and present in front of him, and as MC approaches him to further calm him down, the Ring of Light glows and Lucifer momentarily transforms into his angel form, inspiring awe from everyone around at the sight of the Morning Star once more.

Earlier, Lucifer was begging to be shown some kind of sign from his father, of what it was that he wanted from him. Simeon comments that this might be Father answering that call for a sign -- a sign of his love. Lucifer seems to accept this, though with some bewilderment. But we have Lucifer straight up tell MC later in the lesson that he "must have forgotten" that Father loved them all along! That all he ever did was give, and never ask for anything in return!

Except for blind, unwavering loyalty. Something that Lucifer has actually forgotten about in this moment.

For that matter, why does Simeon automatically assume it's this grand sign of their father's love?! He himself just stated his own doubts and called Raphael out on his.

It's a huge 180 that gave us some intense whiplash for sure. But this isn't the first time we've seen that more religious trauma view from Simeon; we've seen it before in OG season 4, where he has obviously been deeply affected by being demoted out of being an angel altogether but tries to reassure himself that their father does everything for a reason, "even this."

However, even aside from the very sudden turnaround, this explanation leaves a lot to be desired, because it doesn't actually answer anything!!!

We just got told that Raphael was crying from the cognitive dissonance of obeying orders to read the charges against Lucifer while feeling deep down in his heart of hearts that this is wrong. Luke has been stopped from saying anything that could be construed as going against their father! Even harboring doubts is wrong, but somehow we are supposed to suddenly believe that it's because their father loves them?

If that's God's love, it's sure sounding like God is an abusive helicopter parent, because that's not a healthy loving relationship.

Think about it -- this is a scene of punishment. Lucifer isn't just chilling down here for fun; he is actively in pain when we find him, and it only escalates his torment at the thought that his brothers are being punished similarly. And even as we are told that Little D. No. 1 couldn't take material form because their father "just loved them so much," is it really a healthy form of so-called love to hold on to a piece of Lucifer's soul without his knowledge, even after casting him out?! We wouldn't say that a parent who throws their own child out to be homeless while keeping their old room intact is a good, loving parent; why should we think this is any different?

Plus, this is the case for Lucifer -- but what about the other brothers? Though they all managed to get free, Cocytus itself seemed prepared to punish each of them for their various transgressions, and as Mammon points out, all of them were guilty of treason against their father. Yet, it's only Lucifer whose Little D. was never able to take form. It is Lucifer specifically who is targeted for this Cocytus punishment, and the others would likely have been left alone if not for the fact that they came to save him. Lucifer is the one who, for that one moment, regains his angel form.

And what does this mean, if this is God letting go of the last of his grip on Lucifer? That he still loved his favorite son but is casting him away for real now? We know Lucifer has said that God would never forgive him in particular, and though he's been accused of just being stubborn himself (and make no mistake, Lucifer certainly is also stubborn too), it does seem in line with everything else we've been shown about their father. Does this mean that their father no longer loves Lucifer, from this specific point onwards?

And, if their father loves them so much -- then why did they need to rebel for Lilith's sake? The implication here is truly bizarre: their father was going to obliterate Lilith entirely from all existence so that not even her soul would remain, but he also just loves Lucifer so much, but is also so authoritarian that Lucifer trying to talk it out with him was met with a complete shutdown so that Lucifer felt he had no other choice but to start the war. Of course, conveniently, this lesson also just chooses to completely disregard the whole Lilith thing, both her existence at all alongside the brothers before the war and her punishment, so apparently none of that matters!

It's completely out of line with the rest of everything we've ever really been told about the Celestial Realm, and frankly, we don't like or accept it. This so-called love that's suddenly used as the explanation in Lesson 38 isn't a true or healthy kind of love, and we don't want it.

So in conclusion: God is gaslighting us but he really does totally actually suck. We're just supposed to suddenly believe now, out of nowhere, that he doesn't. But he definitely, really does.

Anyway so, Lesson 37 is 10/10 and 38 is -10/10, would not read again. Merry Crisis!

#is this too spicy to post on xmas? sorry not sorry #enjoy yet another long essay from us #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers #omnb #obey me analysis #obey me lucifer #obey me celestial realm #obey me raphael #obey me simeon #always ready to fight god #obey me nb lesson 37 #obey me nb lesson 38

[wasted-women]

ROUND 1A, MATCH 3 OUT OF 8!

Cause of Death & Propaganda Under the Cut:

Kaede Akamatsu

Cause of Death: Framed & Executed; Hanged

Propaganda:

At first she seems like the main protagonist (first girl protag of a main series game, yay!) Stuck in a death game, she was framed for murder and executed in order to give the REAL male protagonist Angst. Was killed cruelly and unjustly and replaced with a much less proactive and interesting character. Justice for Kaede.

Kaede Akamatsu is the first female protagonist of a mainline Danganronpa game! JK of course she's not! Her death in the first trial gives emo shy boy Shuichi Saihara the motivation he needs to become the *true* protagonist of the game! She has so much wasted potential as a protagonist... truly pain and misery on planet earth.

Kaede was the first female protagonist of the mainline Danganronpa games, and also the first protagonist with a notable talent! She was a very fun and interesting character who was taken away from us in the first trial, thus making the protagonist of the game another random detective boy. Her death is mostly used to fuel his story, and she quite literally had no reason to die. Her death was also extremely brutal, and it felt like the devs spitting in our face to make a character with such potential into a “dead waifu.”

Akane Hyakuya

Cause of Death: Murdered by a Vampire

Propaganda:

[No Propaganda Submitted]

Kuina Shimotsuki

Cause of Death: Accident; Fell down the stairs

Propaganda:

she's a sword fighter! she wanted to be the best sword fighter in the world and was until she died the best in her class. while practicing with zoro she was giving him tips on how to improve (even before they become friends). she has a really cool sword (which zoro takes after she dies to "carry on her legacy" or something). we dont know anything else about her :)))))))))

Listen Oda normally writes the women characters well but this... this was not it. Other than giving Zoro motivation she doesn't really have much of a role in the main story and idk she could've had a more "honorable" death or something

#wasted women poll #kaede akamatsu #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #akane hyakuya #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #kuina shimotsuki #one piece #poll bracket #poll tournament #character polls #polls #round 1 #round 1a

[awakenthemusic]

Trick or Treat

Jack had insisted on dressing ‘like his dads’ for Halloween. He wore a pair of jeans and a buttoned-up flannel that matched the one Dean wore with a solid blue tie and a smaller version of Cas’ trench coat over top of the whole thing. Sam had had a bit of a bitch fit that the only things Jack wore that represented him were a pair of moose slippers and a cheap Party City wig, but screw him; if he wanted to be a bigger part of the costume he should have been the one scouring the internet for a child’s size trench coat and matching flannels. Besides, it’s not like he was the one out here freezing his nuts off taking the kid door to door.

Tags: Short fic, ~1,100 words, Tooth-rotting Fluff, Child!Jack

For Suptober 2023 Day 31 - Trick or Treat

Under the cut or on Ao3

ETA: This is best read as a sequel to Pumpkin Patch, my fill for Day 2.

“Hold up, kiddo.” Dean snagged Jack as the kid zoomed circles around Dean, apparently still too excited to walk. He fiddled with one of Jack’s wings, which had started to droop, adjusting the brace he’d jury-rigged to support all three pairs of them. He fixed the collar of Jack’s tiny trench coat with a fond pat, then let him rush off again.

Jack had insisted on dressing ‘like his dads’ for Halloween. He wore a pair of jeans and a buttoned-up flannel that matched the one Dean wore, with a solid blue tie and a smaller version of Cas’ trench coat over top of it. Sam had had a bit of a bitch fit that the only things Jack wore that represented him were a pair of moose slippers and a cheap Party City wig, but screw him; if he wanted to be a bigger part of the costume he should have been the one scouring the internet for a child’s size trench coat and matching flannels. Besides, it’s not like he was the one out here freezing his nuts off taking the kid door to door.

The costume would have been weird enough, but Jack had also insisted on no less than three sets of feathered wings with paper ‘eyes’ that he’d colored the correct shade of blue himself, the closest they could come to representing Cas’ actual wings. He was also carrying two (hidden) plastic weapons that looked like eerily-accurate scale replicas of the demon knife and Cas’ angel blade, even though they’d started life as a couple of pirate-costume daggers.

Jack zoomed up to the next house and bounced excitedly on the top step, waiting for Dean to catch up and ring the doorbell.

Dean chuckled and took the steps two at a time.

“Trick or treat!” Jack yelled with enthusiasm as the door swung open.

The woman who answered the door dressed as a stereotypical witch, green skin and all, looked vaguely familiar. “Hi Jack, don’t you look... handsome,” She said with barely a pause as she held out a bowl of candy.

The voice was finally enough to place her and Dean shuffled awkwardly. What were the odds that Lydia lived on this random residential street that Dean had picked for candy-gathering purposes?

“What are you dressed as?” She asked, her tone surprisingly non-judgmental.

“I’m dressed like my dads!” Jack proclaimed, spinning around to make sure Lydia got the full effect. He pointed out each item he was wearing (minus the plastic weapons; thankfully they’d convinced Jack that not telling the whole truth was different than lying) telling Lydia which pieces represented which person. “And the coat and wings are for my Dad,” He finished proudly.

Dean caught Lydia’s confused look and shrugged. “I call him angel” He said, then gave Lydia his best ‘kids, what are ya gonna do?’ grin, which he’d had a chance to perfect over the half hour or so they’d been out here already.

“Oh,” Lydia said, playing along. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of angels with six wings before.”

“I’m dressed as a seraph,” Jack informed her solemnly.

“I see,” Lydia replied, just as solemnly as she squatted down to look Jack in the eye. “Seraphs have six wings, huh?”

Jack nodded, then corrected, “Seraphim have three pairs of wings covered in eyes.” He glanced over his shoulder with all the scathing disdain of an art critic and said, “It really doesn’t look anything like this, but we were forced to work in only three dimensions…”

Dean stiffened, ready to distract Lydia and move the conversation away from its current course, but she rolled with the weird turn with admirable calm. “That would limit your abilities to represent metaphysical forms, wouldn’t it?”

Jack beamed at her, eagerly telling her all about the problems he’d had getting the eyes just the right shade of blue without the presence of grace, and trying to find glue that would stick to the fake feathers, talking so fast Dean was barely able to keep up and he’d been there for all of it.

At least his motor mouth meant that all the weirdness was flying right over Lydia’s head. Just as Dean was about to have pity on her and try to nudge Jack to head to the next house, he heard the welcome sound of Baby pulling up behind them.

“Dad!” Jack shouted and shot off Lydia’s front porch like he was strapped to a rocket, arriving at the car just in time to open the driver’s door for Cas as Cas stared at him with a confused grin, their matching trench coats just as cute as Dean had thought they would be.

Dean turned back to thank Lydia, unable to wipe the sappy grin from his face. “Uh, thanks for that. You’re the first one who’s asked him questions like that, most of the parents just shove the candy at him and bolt.”

Lydia smiled. “No need to thank me, he’s a great kid. Any time you want to bring him with you to the bakery, he’s more than welcome…” She glanced over Dean’s shoulder with a wistful look. “I used to be a teacher, loved working with the kids, but…” She shook herself. “Well, baking pies pays the bills a lot better anyway, especially since you moved into town.” She held the candy dish out to Dean with a teasing smile.

“Oh, no, that’s okay, I don’t need…”

“Go on,” She said. “Jack forgot to take some. Why don’t you grab one for both of your angels?”

Despite how long he and Cas had been together, he still had to fight down a blush as he faked a pout. “What? None for your best customer?”

Lydia laughed and shoved the bowl at him again. “Oh, go ahead, you charmer.”

Dean took the offered candy and turned away with a little wave, grinning as he loped down the steps, heading over to Cas as Jack swooped up and down the sidewalk.

“Sorry I’m late, things took longer than expected.” Cas called, careful to obscure the fact that he’d been helping Sam and Eileen on a hunt.

Dean frowned in concern but, before he could even ask, Cas reassured, “Everyone’s fine, it was just more complicated than we thought.”

Cas folded Dean into the warmest hug ever, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was because they hadn’t seen each other in several days or because the weather had just gotten that cold.

Dean shivered a bit and Cas made a little noise before leaning back into the car and pulling out a thermos full of hot cocoa.

The tiny plastic mug transferred all the heat directly to Dean’s hands, biting at his frozen fingers and making him hiss, but the cocoa slid down his throat, warming him from the inside out.

“Marry me,” Dean groaned in appreciation for the warmth.

Cas smiled, one of his happiest, gummiest grins, as he brought his hand up to cradle Dean’s face, his ring a spot of cold on Dean’s cheek. He pulled Dean in for a kiss as he whispered, “Too late, I already did.”

#suptober23 #destiel #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #myfics

[medusanova]

Finally getting around to sending this prompt: I'd love to see a mash-up / fusion of Fate and The Shadowhunter Chronicles. Particularly in the context of Sky and Riven being parabatai and how that works in the Fate universe. 👀 (or any of the characters as parabatai would be v cool too- like, Bloom and Aisha maybe?)

There is nothing I love more than the complexities of a parabatai bond — and I could never pass up on a sky/riven moment, especially when I found these as inspiration..

It’s been three years since Sky laid eyes on an Elapid demon. Not since the portal to the dark realm had been closed for good.

Or so they thought.

For a few seconds, it’s the only thing that takes up his vision — a swarm of scaled creatures crawling around Alfea, neither serpent nor insect, their jagged claws buried into the spines of his fellow specialists and tearing them to pieces — before the rune on his neck tingles and the image fades.

Just in time for Sky to duck and roll away from the snap of its teeth.

Amber-colored venom drips to the ground, sizzling into the cobblestone where Sky had been frozen in place just seconds ago.

The demon’s cobra-shaped head turns in his direction, red eyes bleeding violence and hunger, only to stumble back with a piercing shriek when an arrow gets embedded into its neck.

“That sword in your hand? It’s to defend yourself from things like that,” a low voice taunts from behind him. Sky turns in time to see Riven aim another marked arrow, sending a shockwave of an angry yowl through the village when the sharp tip grazes the top of the demon’s head. “Would be bloody helpful if you used it right about now.”

The sardonic words make him smile despite himself, sending the unsettling flashback to the back of his mind. Shaking his head in amusement, he pulls the seraph blade from its scabbard, letting it illuminate his hand with a soft, divine glow.

Running toward the demonic creature, he arcs through the air, dodging a taloned arm, and slices through one of the demon’s legs — just in time to sidestep another one. Taking advantage of his crouched position, Sky pierces his blade through the underside of its belly. It explodes in a shower of burning ichor.

He turns to face his partner. “Two!” he calls out, breathless from the headiness of adrenaline.

“One and a half,” Riven shoots back with a smirk. He plants an arrow into the head of the third and final Elapid and doesn’t even stop to make sure it’s fully banished to the demon realm when he stows his bow away, strutting in Sky’s direction. Cocky bastard. “I helped you with the first one.”

The lightness in Riven’s voice, however, doesn’t match the intensity of his eyes as they absorb every detail about Sky. Gaze determined and evergreen. So intense it never fails to feel like Riven’s hands are slowly checking over every inch of him.

Like it always does, Sky’s heart pounds against the prison of his rib cage at the sight, sending a pulse of warmth down his spine.

It took years for Sky to understand that look. That unwavering stare. Intended to painstakingly ensure the soul bound to Riven’s was uninjured, unharmed. But once he did, once Sky allowed himself to feel the full weight of Riven’s attention, well, it’s been a steady descent since.

Sky does his best to shrug it away as they head back to the institute, tucked away behind a First World trinket shop in the middle of Blackbridge. “But I was the one to kill it.”

“I knew your hero complex would go to your head one day, I just didn’t expect it to be so soon,” Riven teases, bumping his bicep — inked with the rune identical to the one on his neck — into Sky.

“Weren’t you the one who told Silva we didn’t need a team for this patrol?”

Riven scoffs. “Like I could’ve predicted an Elapid nest? I know a higher level of demon activity has been reported, but where the fuck did those even come from?”

It’s a good question, actually. They weren’t even supposed to be on a mission today, just an ordinary patrol. One they’ve done countless times without encountering Elapid-level demons. It’s relatively uneventful most of the time, but today they stumbled upon a swarm of them for the first time in years and Sky—

He thinks of lifeless eyes, of blood-soaked grass squelching beneath his boots as he surveys the loss of his fellow warriors. Of the cries of pain and sorrow pervading through Alfea.

“Sky!” Riven warns urgently, pulling him out of his daze.

His body responds before his mind can even process the words, flattening to the ground as a demon flies through the air just a few feet above him. Sky’s palms sting from the cut of the cobblestones when he clambers to his feet, scanning the area around them for the nearest source of danger.

An Elapid demon comes at him seconds later, swooping with a visceral screech. Sky grunts as he blocks its leg with his seraph blade and pushes it back, his teeth gritting together with effort. From his periphery, he sees another leg loom over him, ready to spear through his body, only for it to get pierced with a marked arrow, exploding in a splash of ichor.

The demon howls and Sky strikes, swinging his sword through its neck. Black-green blood splatters onto him, biting at his exposed skin, but the thrill of killing the demon, of sending it back to the hell it came from, is much more powerful.

He turns to face Riven with a grimace. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Always,” Riven replies easily, and the smile he sends Sky is devastating, entirely out of place on a battlefield. “Except for when it’s Silva. Demons I can handle. Silva’s lectures? You’re on your own, mate.”

Sky’s about to tell him that Silva’s lectures are pretty much exclusively reserved for Riven when he hears an all-too-familiar scuttling sound. He barely has time to lift his sword when there’s a blur of movement, a sickening squelch, and—

Riven screams.

Sky’s body is hollow as he stares at the claw that’s run straight through Riven’s thigh, blood glistening on its black shell. It starts to shudder as though it’s about to jerk upwards – three, two, one, – and tear Riven in half.

Sky moves without thinking, spinning past his parabatai to sever the leg off at the back, thrusting his sword through the demon’s belly with an anguished, vengeful roar. He doesn’t even care to watch it be banished to the demon realm, and just turns to catch Riven as he collapses backwards, sinking to his knees. Two bound souls on the ground.

“Always the bloody white knight…” he gasps, sounding half out of it already. Sky fumbles for Riven’s hand, his fingers sliding in between his. “A lot of blood, Sky. It’s- my thigh. There’s too much blood.”

“I know,” he says, catching his voice before it cracks. “It’s okay, just- just let me get my stele, okay? We need a healing rune and-“

“N-no. Won’t work. Too much blood.” Riven exhales a short, mirthless laugh. “I don’t- it’s not going to work.”

“It will, okay? You’re going to be fine. Where I go you go, remember?”

“Sky don’t... I’m fine.”

But it’s not. It’s not fucking fine because Sky can feel their parabatai bond weakening by the second. Can feel the life-force that constantly exists within him, the axis of his whole world, fading away.

Riven just rests there on his chest. His breaths shallow, his fingers trembling against Sky’s neck, and his eyes trained on Sky’s face. He flinches when something wet drips onto his cheek, but he still doesn’t look away.

And Sky knows, he knows that a healing rune on Riven’s body isn’t going to be enough to fix him.

He knows that there are some wounds that are fatal wounds — heads crushed by stone, stomachs pierced by swords, hearts stopped with lightning — that are just too big, too permanent to heal. A femoral artery ripped apart by a demon is one of them.

But there’s nothing in this realm, nothing in this world or any world, that can stop him from reaching out with a bloodstained hand to draw one on anyway.

It’s not his best. He’s too shaky, too frenzied to make it his best. The lines aren’t sharp or precise and he can’t even breathe much magic into it like he usually would—

But then the rune glows. Steadily brighter and stronger than he’s ever seen. An iridescent blaze of light that beams through the village and nearly blinds everyone in it.

When it fades, any remaining demons are gone — expelled in a series of cataclysms that reverberate through Sky’s knees — and Riven has stopped bleeding. There’s a spiked claw on the ground next to his thigh and the skin where his wound should be is whole, unmarred. As if he wasn’t just on the brink of death. His puddle of blood is nothing more than a rusted stain that’s faded into his black gear.

Sky feels their parabatai bond flare against Riven’s palm on his neck, red-hot and electric. The rune on his bicep grows as hot on Sky’s chest as the liquid fire in his gaze. He breathes Sky’s name, hushed and reverent.

They haven’t looked away from each other.

Sky doesn’t say anything in reply. He just stares back at Riven, droplets of sweat and pain still caught in his lashes. His chest feels warm, his body heavy. Like he could stay here forever. Riven held close to chest, their feelings burning like heavenly fire through their bond, the rest of the world a universe away.

Sky and Riven. Just Sky and Riven.

There’s a sharp crunch of boots and Silva falls to a crouch beside Sky, startling them both out of their reverie.

“What,” he says in complete bewilderment, “the fuck was that?”

#whump whump whumpppp #it didn’t start angsty but it sure did end that way woops #poor riven aka my emotional punching bag #adore both of these fandoms so I hope I did this little crossover some justice! #skyriv #ftws riven #ftws sky #sky of eraklyon #fate ficlet #fate: the winx saga #parabatai #shadowhunters #shadowhunter chronicles #my writing #nova writes #ask me things

[lostsoulaltair]

OnS Theory - Who is Yuu aiming to resurrect?

A rather tricky title for a theory, but actually, it’s something that I find rather amusing, is he trying to save Mika or is he trying to save Mikaela?

P.S: Theories are held within a neutral view and ships are excluded

As it’s been mentioned for a good time, the whole issue within the story is that Shikama is seeking to resurrect his son Mikaela, tasking his creation, Yuu, to help him resurrect no matter the cost and sacrifices made.

Image taken from Chapter 113

Despite the canon information about labeling Mika as the son of Shikama, there’s something rather trickish with the details given, what do I mean?

First of all, despite the lack of continuity in the Mikaela LNs, it is hinted that for so long, Rigr Stafford and Ferid Bathory seeked those carrying out the Michaela trait; and of course, with years, only Mika carried out both genes, the Seraph and the Michaela trait. But, even so, the story is slowly and gradually showing that it is highly possible that there’s a huge gap between Mikaela and Mika; is there solid proof?

There is:

Image taken from Chapter 114

Rigr points out that Shikama indeed found out a child who appeared in front of the Hyakuya Orphanage to meet the standards for the resurrection of his son, but it isn’t mentioned that his son reincarnated, but rather, a vessel for Mikaela was found.

Of course, Rigr kept delaying such scenario over and over until we reached the current events of the story, but, how does this relate to the question of the theory title?

Easy. Yuu is not focused on resurrectinng Mika from 16 years ago, but rather, he’s focusing to bring back the existance of Mikaela. But isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t it the same Mika?

Image taken from Chapter 120

For this, the answer is no. Certain reader might point out that it’s the authors story and while it’s indeed true that it is Kagami’s story at the end of the day, stories take the elemental essence of inspiration and ultimately, in order to dig into such topics, Owari is certainly not the first to touch the topics of resurrection, cloning processes, memory transfer, vessels or tools. 

In fact other anime/game title stories touch reincarnation including books that focus on doing the action such as: REGRESSION. Along this, there’s a phrase that I love so much and I’d love to quote it:

“The World allows a mind to find another matching vessel, but does not allow a vessel to gather the pieces of a mind”.

And perhaps you’ll wonder, what touches or dwelves this phrase upon, it’s simple; humans are unique, we have certain factors that determinate who we are despite sharing charms, characteristics, ideals and goals; that elemental point that makes or gives us identity even with the spawn of time, centuries and the possibility of reincarnation, cannot be replicated; the only way to save someone would be going to the past and alter it to give such being a new possibility.

But, what does this have to do with Mika’s resurrection?

Mikaela is certainly a character that misfortune focused due to all the things that have happened to him, but there’s one interesting detail and that is the very fact that he holds “key points” for elements of the story and the topic about the resurrection is no exception:

Image taken from chapter 106

Mikaela as a character is wary of his own footsteps in contrary with Yuu, therefore, there’s also another key element to mark the difference between Mika and Mikaela, what could it be?

A demon’s mind.

Once a vampire turns into a demon, they suffer amnesia depending a lot on the circumstances they were turned into; in contrary to Mika, vampires such as Ashera, Noya, Byakkomaru, Raimeiki, Gekkouin and Kiseki-O who were turned by the First and held sanity along his memories:

Image taken from Chapter 106

Back when Mika was exploring Yuu’s inner memories, he spotted the demons that are currently sealed in their respective cursed gears; nevertheless, the demons present had their own memories, will and loyalty towards the First; which of course, such memories were temporaly blocked until the required trigger was lifted.

But, in Mika’s case, the memories he recovered were the ones he lived through his 16 years of life; there wasn’t even a trace from a distant past; and even despite him seeing Shikama Doji present, it was evident that he didn’t grreet him with a smile or with the warmness he was supposed to feel towards a parent; this is even highlighted by Shikama himself after spotting Mikaela, instead of ensuring or giving a hug; the air he gave was intimidating: 

Image taken from chapter 106

But despite all these key points; Yuu’s goal stopped being focused on just giving Mika his humanity back, but rather, he is now focused on resurrecting him along his catchy phrase of resurrecting everyone, which is impossible. (For that, there’s a topic about it).

Even if the resurrection were to happen, there are some details that need to be explored.

And lastly, to give further strength to this theory, there’s just another surprise left that will be discussed in another theory, perhaps some might know about it, perhaps it has been long forgotten.

What kind of surprise will be?

What do you think dear readers?

Yes I love the gif, eheh!

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #sote #ons #ons theories #ons analysis #ons analysis and theory #mikaela hyakuya #demon mikaela hyakuya #yuichiro hyakuya #shikama doji #sika madu #ons resurrection #ons chapter 120 #ons chapter 106 #ons chapter 114 #ons chapter 113 #ons fandom #dear readers what do you think #what do you think dear readers

[araingirl]

Thimeethi: Calmness amidst turbulence

Both the floor and the roof of the hexagonal shrine were made of pure gypsum, supported by tall and broad composite pillars, enclosed by the festoons of wild hydrangea and Sakura like pythons climbing thick banyan trees. Silver candle-stands were attached to them, holding flashy wax-lights which were burning even though it was pure daylight outside, spreading a seraphic aroma all over the hall. The windows were made of colorful glass. By both sides of them, red velvet curtains were drawn off, bound in golden brackets. On the walls at the left and right, portraits of four elements and ancient deities belonging to them were painted with every subtle particularization.

The slab containing the portrait of the vermilion bird of the south, the azure dragon from the east, the white tiger from the west and the black turtle from the north was located on a two-storied pewter podium adjacent to the front wall. Two incensed burners made of sandalwood were guarding it from its both sides, emitting aromatic smoke and making the atmosphere saintlier. In front of the painted block, in a silver bowl, there were four different-colored lotuses floating in rose water, accompanied by two pairs of floating clay lamps. Facing the idol, a royal maiden, on the verge of her twenties, was sitting in lotus pose, straightening her back hidden underneath her bouncy waist-length, lush coco tresses. Though her face couldn’t be seen, it could easily be understood that she was completely absorbed in her prayers and thoughts.

“Here you are!”

The unexpected loudness of the voice of the Latina startled the brunette a little as she turned back, screwing her brows, letting the astonishment be visible in her sparkling ruby orbs. Standing up, she moved towards her cousin, “Julia, you’re here?”

“That’s also my question!” Julia was panting and her tangerine bangs were clinging to her forehead due to extremity of her perspiration, “You know, I have already completed two rounds around this gigantic castle in search of you and you are hiding here?”

“Hey, I am not hiding from anyone!” Hilary felt a bit annoyed with her cousin, “Today, it is my final test of my music lessons. For that, I was praying to the deities so that it can go good.”

“This reason?” Julia gave her a smile of assurance, “Don’t worry Hil, I know you will excel in this test too like all the previous ones. I have full confidence on you.”

“Thanks Julia,” The face of the brunette became brightened, receiving the best wishes from the twin-haired girl, “I really needed this.”

“But…” All of a sudden, Julia’s expression turned a tad gloomy as she remembered something, “I didn’t come here to only wish good luck to you, Hil. Actually, I had to give a piece of bad news.”

“Bad news?” Hilary glowered, “About whom and what, Julie?”

“You must have remembered that today there is the semifinal match of Asian championship of temples, between temple of Dranzer and temple of Horns?” Julia asked, wanting to clarify.

“Temple of Horns?” The chocolate-haired girl raised a brow, “Oh, those corrupt warriors who don’t even have the money to buy weapons for themselves. That’s why, stealing the weapons of others, they step into battlefield. Not only that, their battle strategies are even viler! I cannot yet forget how filthily they defeated general Kon and his teammates who were fighting hard on behalf of the temple of Driger, in the quarterfinals. Hope Kai and his friends teach them a lesson this time.”

“I am afraid to say this…” Julia sounded unusually tensed, unlike her nature, “As always, they have acted vile this time too.”

“This time too?” Hilary couldn’t control her curiosity and worries at the same time, “What do you want to say, Julie?”

“Hiwatarian has badly hurt his elbow,” The orange-banged woman gulped, “The messenger told me that blood was dripping from the wound like droplets of water even though it was bandaged properly. The white dressing turned red bit by bit.”

Hilary flinched, stepping back as she heard her cousin. Nonetheless, Julia continued, “Not only that, only for hitting Hiwatarian illegally, six among ten battlers from the opponents have been warned with orange flags. These horners are playing really dirty.”

Hilary’s bright, cheerful face took no moment to accept the shades of rainclouds in the sky of monsoon. Clenching her teeth, she asked, “Julie, can you tell me the result of the duel till now?”

“As far as I know,” Julia replied, “It was a tie. If it remains same till the final moment, the match will enter into rapid-fire round where the warriors, blindfolded, will have to shoot arrows at the target. Only one blindfolded player from the opposition will be there to block the arrow with his shield.”

‘Oh…’ Hilary lightly mused, reminiscing the past events which had, of course, not been so pleasant both for her and Hiwatarian, ‘So, another rapid-fire round…’

“And there goes our Hiwatarian!” Julia sounded irritated, fidgeting with her fingers, “Who the hell told him to continue battling even after getting injured so badly? He was seeing that the goons of the horners were striking right at his wound deliberately, yet he was in the battlefield. Hil? Aren’t you feeling worried for him?”

“A little,” The brunette replied, trying much to maintain the calmness of her voice, “But more for the result of the battle, and, the most for my test.”

“Eh?” Julia’s eyes became widened in shock as she couldn’t believe her cousin. Squeezing the shoulders of the ruby-eyed maiden, she almost screamed, “What are you saying, Hil? Have you gone crazy? Your beloved is bleeding on the battlefield, yet, fighting, putting his own life at stake and you are calm? How?”

“As if I hadn’t seen him bleeding ever in my life.” Hilary grimaced.

“What?” Julia’s restless was touching the peak now.

“Julie, trust me,” She held the hands of the twin-haired Spaniard which were on her shoulders, “It is much better to bleed to death than to stay alive, carrying a heavy bleeding heart inside the chest. Hiwatarian has already dealt with the latter and handled it very well. I have full faith on my deities as well as my Hiwatarian, he’ll manage it skillfully too.”

“But…”

“Don’t get on my nerves, Julie,” The chocolate-haired princess sighed, “A storm is already going inside me, roaring through my heart and brain, trying to devastate everything. But if I let it come out, nothing good will happen. Let me concentrate on my own test and pray for my Hiwatarian so that everything goes good and ends well.”

Bowing in front of the slab once with utter devotion and faith, Hilary turned back and made her way towards the music house of the castle. Her footsteps were light, slow but her heartbeats were saying something else. Bringing some tresses from her back, she tried to cover her ruby orbs, not letting her cousin see them glittering with her tears. Her head wasn’t lowered, facing straightly whatever was in front of her. She folded her wobbling lips inside forcefully as if she’d been ordering them to stay calm. Nonetheless, the tempest raised in her mind was so disobedient that it wasn’t ready to leave the place so soon-at least, her slightly twitching eyebrows were agreeing on that point. Closing her eyes, she exhaled once, emptying her lungs from all the carbon-di-oxide and attempting to discharging the negative thoughts from her brain.

‘Whatever will happen today,’ She told to herself, ‘Either better, or for betterment!’ 

________________________________________________________________

Ever seen this form of Hilary Tachibana? Well, her character in Thimeethi has been designed in a unique way...let’s see how it comes out *Nervously scratches my head* 

#Theemithi: The walk of faith #KaiXHilary #KaiHil

[cuubism]

New whump prompt? Magnus thinks his wedding ring was destroyed (it didn't)

okay but what if it WAS destroyed 😈

*

Everything is ringing. Magnus’s head resounds with pounding noise, echoes of something he can only distantly remember. He coughs but doesn’t hear the sound of it, spits blood and dirt out of his mouth and tries to get his bearings.

He’s collapsed on the ground amidst the detritus of an explosion. Dust radiates in circles around him, dust that he’s pretty sure was once solid objects, a cell, maybe, the walls of a building, maybe. The bodies of his captors, maybe. Just at the edge of his blurry vision he can make out slanted slabs of concrete, splintered wooden beams. He’s exhausted, and it’s hard to remember, but Magnus is pretty sure he must have done this, destroyed all of this in a blast of magic the likes of which he hasn’t seen from himself in a long time.

“Magnus!”

Magnus startles at the sound of Alec’s distant voice, calling for him. He tries to push himself up on his forearms, but is trembling too hard and falls back to the ground. More blood drips from his nose.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Magnus was supposed to have this under control. He’d volunteered for this mission, volunteered to be captured so they could nab the ring of ex-Circle members hunting warlocks. He doesn’t— he doesn’t know what happened. It was all supposed to be under control. Alec’s team was tracking him—however virulently Alec had argued against Magnus’s involvement, Magnus knew he was still tracking him, that he was on top of his part of the plan—and Magnus was powerful, these Shadowhunters were no match for his magic if he really needed to escape, he just had to play their game long enough to find out where the rest of the warlocks were being held—

He sucks in a breath as his memory clears enough for him to remember. Play their game. Magnus had. He’d played with all he had, feigned injury, feigned weakness, listened to the Circle members disparage him and his people, listened to them try to tear down his and Alec’s relationship. That was all bearable, mostly.

Then one of them had snatched his wedding ring from his hand.

Magnus could have stopped them, was the most frustrating part, but doing so would have meant admitting that he could get out of his cuffs, that he was playing them, and he hadn’t gotten the information yet. So he just sat there, furious beyond belief as this cruel, ignorant Shadowhunter played with the one piece of his jewelry that wasn’t just jewelry, the one ring that meant everything to him, as he threatened to destroy it just as he would destroy Magnus’s sacrilegious marriage when he finally killed both him and his husband.

How the Shadowhunter actually managed to destroy it, Magnus still doesn’t know. He thinks it may have been a reaction between the man’s seraph blade and the protections Magnus had placed around the ring.

Either way, Magnus saw white. The pain that roared through him was surprising in its intensity considering it was just a ring he was losing. But in losing it Magnus lost the last shreds of control that he’d already been barely holding onto with his teeth, felt his magic burst forth in a wave that incinerated everything around him. It whited out the pain, too, for a moment.

Now, Magnus pants where he lays, hands trembling with the expense of magic, and wants to scream at himself. It was just a ring. And now he’s ruined everything.

“Magnus!”

Alec skids to his knees beside him, dropping his bow, hands hovering over him. Magnus tries again to push himself up, but he can’t, he’s too weak, he’s too weak. He shouldn’t have used so much magic. He coughs more blood into the dust and winces at Alec’s harsh intake of breath.

“Hey, shhh, don’t try to move.” Alec shifts closer so he can gently lift Magnus’s head to rest on his thigh. His touch is tentative, he must think Magnus is seriously injured rather than just drained. He turns over his shoulder to yell into the hovering dust. “I need help over here!”

Magnus winces at the noise and grabs Alec’s hand. “It’s okay,” he rasps, throat dry, “I’m not hurt. Just—” he coughs again, which isn’t really helping make his case— “out of magic.”

Alec exhales slowly, and even through his exhaustion Magnus can see the tension in him. He realizes, for the first time, what his dramatic grief-spurred explosion must have looked like from Alec’s perspective.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus breathes, curling into Alec’s thigh. Though he’s not sorry to have his husband holding him after so many hours being tormented by deranged Circle members.

Alec runs a hand through his hair. “What happened, Magnus?”

Magnus closes his eyes. “I lost control. Ruined the mission.”

There’s a long pause. Magnus waits for Alec’s disappointment.

Finally, Alec says, voice dark, “What did they do?”

It’s not the reaction Magnus was dreading. “Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary for Circle members. It was stupid, I should have had better control over my feelings.”

“Magnus, what did they do?” Alec sounds like he’s about to leap up and kill the Circle members himself, even though they’re already dead.

Magnus stays silent and just squeezes Alec’s hand. Talking is starting to hurt his head. Listening to Alec all but absolve him of his failures is starting to hurt his heart.

He knows the moment Alec looks down at where their hands are entwined because his whole body goes rigid.

“Your ring.”

Magnus presses his face deeper into Alec’s thigh. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about it.

“Magnus.”

The horror in Alec’s voice strikes Magnus in the heart, and before he can shove those feelings away again he bursts into tears.

Alec gathers him into his arms, holding him close and shushing him. Magnus buries his face in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, and he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for. Ruining the mission? Losing the ring?

“Shhh,” Alec says, “I have you now. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Magnus sobs, and God, he needs to get himself under control. Instead, he just keeps crying as Alec runs a hand through his hair, clearly at a bit of a loss for how to help. In any other circumstance, Magnus thinks, Alec would be punching a Circle member’s face in, except Magnus has already reduced them all to ash with his outburst. It’s a pity, as Magnus would have loved to see Alec’s fist connect with a Circle member’s nose, especially right now.

“We found the warlocks,” Alec finally says, still petting at Magnus’s hair. “They were unharmed.”

Magnus doesn’t want to think about how unlikely it is that they would have stayed that way for much longer.

“You did so well,” Alec says.

Magnus huffs, finally calming. “I didn’t do anything.”

“No, you distracted them long enough for us to get a lock on their location. We couldn’t have rescued the warlocks without you. Even if I hate that you had to be involved like this.”

Magnus supposes his wedding ring is a small price to pay to save lives, even if it hurts his heart.

“I know it’s not a replacement,” Alec eventually adds, “but I’ll get you a new ring. Something special. Or you can make a replica of mine, if you want. I know it meant a lot to you.”

“You mean a lot to me,” Magnus says. He finds Alec’s hand again and holds it. “You, my husband, mean everything to me. The ring is just… my way of carrying you with me when you’re not there. My way of telling the world about you without having to say anything. I feel so proud when I get to show you off like that.” When I get to remember that someone loved me enough to ask me to marry them.

Alec’s quiet for a moment. “Even when it gets you hurt?”

“Even then.”

Alec sighs. “Well, I guess it’s not like these assholes didn’t get their comeuppance for it, at least.”

Magnus smirks, looking around them at the circle of dust. “Yes, let it be known across the lands that anyone else who dares disparage the marriage of Magnus and Alec Lightwood-Bane will meet a similar fate.”

Alec laughs wetly and holds Magnus closer in his arms. “Trust me,” he says, “there will not be anyone else.”

#malec #malec fic #my writing #whump prompts #ask #anonymous #magnus is just having bad day after bad day in my fics recently

[starlightsaeran]

Moonchild

Author’s note: Hello hello! I’m so excited to be posting the first of two pieces created for the @mysme-rbb !! I’ve been unbelivably lucky to be paired with such an overwhelmingly talented artist, @pili-art {{please go show her all the love in the world!! }}, and I've had more fun creating these than I can even put into words!! I hope you love them <3

Summary: Saeran drifts off to sleep after another night of anxiety, but for the first time in a long while, his dreams are far from torturous...

Read on AO3: here! 

Make sure to check out my partner’s STUNNING accompanying art here!! ✨

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saeran wanders among the scintillating tightrope hung between the planets, tangled among the clouds.

The darkness is inescapable. A thick blanket of it envelops him, entangling everything it isn’t with everything he is, securing him, but never trapping him. It pulls him under into its reassuring embrace, and quellls the flames of his neverending fears and anxieties. The darkness is a lullaby to the exhaustion of his soul.

 Saeran is alone. He had long ago grown used to being alone, and now he felt the most at ease when he was by himself, in the hours when he knew no one else was around to see his weaknesses and the insecurities that were always lit up like a neon sign behind his eyes. He enjoyed being alone, but the inevitable loneliness that managed to creep up on him without fail every time he was alone made him want to run far and far away. But every silver lining has its cloud, and Saeran, being as smart as he is, knew there would never be anywhere for him ro run to. In this moment, Saeran is alone, but he isn’t lonely. The darkness, though he is sure that’s all it is and all it has ever been, feels like a friend. It remains silent, watching, though Saeran knows it is never judging. That’s why he has always found it so easy to be comforted by the darkness, to melt it into it, until he can’t remember where the darkness ends and he begins. Intertwined - with the emptiness he came from, the emptiness he belongs to. The darkness hides him. Him, and everything he is, everything he has ever been and never will be. It sees him, though for once, that doesn’t scare him. He knows he can be himself within the darkness, though in reality, he has no choice. He is simply too tired to hide it now.

No, the darkness is not empty, not as his heart had once been, is usually for that matter, but right now he doesn’t feel it; the infinite, endless cavern of depression he can't help but fall and fall and fall into. There is no escape, for it exists within him. It is him, this nightmare he can’t awake from. His heart is a blackhole. Perhaps this, the ocean of nothingness that exists many lifetimes away from all human creation, this is the perfect place for a creature like him to reside. There is nothing for him to destroy here, nothing for him to tarnish with the breaths he can’t help but to take. He is something to be feared. But perhaps here, in a place as wholly consuming as this, in an atmosphere which plucks his every thought from him like they are naught but weeds in a flowerbed, the inevitable ache which demands to be felt cannot find him.

In this moment, in this place, he cannot feel the heavy burden of his heart. This is a welcome escape from the anguish of his daily routine. In fact, Saeran can’t feel very much of anything else either. Not the untamable wisps of his hair that usually torment the corners of his always tired eyes, not the ache in his bones from the repeating days in which his body is stuck in its chair whilst his mind runs at the speed of light, or the pounding in his head that refuses to cease. He can’t even feel the rips and tears in the skin of his fingertips, which usually serve as a  constant reminder of his own weakness and lack of self control. He feels none of it. He feels...nothing. Like the darkness within which he is encased, he is still.

Saeran tries to recall how it was he wound up here, wherever here is, and vaguely remembers the ghosts of his tears as they ran down his cheeks, and the way their rhythmic flow ebbed him to sleep. His head had been resting on a pillow dampened by the tears he’d cried an hour or a day or a year before, and the night sky visible through the glass ceiling above him had seemed to be inviting him to rest with it.

That must be where he is now. Dreaming, his mind wandering as his body rests, safe. But if his body was resting beneath the stars, then where were they now?

Open your eyes.

 Saeran hears a voice say, or does he? It’s hard to tell if the words had manifested from the darkness, or if he had simply imagined them himself from the newly relaxed state of his mind. All he knows is that those words had sounded unimaginably pretty. They were a sound unlike any he had ever heard before, even lovelier than windchimes, and sirens singing in a storm. They had felt like kisses from a butterfly gliding past his skin. Regardless of the origin of the words, he feels as though he has no choice but to obey. He isn’t sure he is even in control of his own actions now, and though he hadn’t realised they had even been closed;

he opens his eyes.

An uncountable amount of stars had suddenly filled all of eternity. They are shining in all their seraphic glory, as they dance and dance with themselves and with each other, a cacophony of love, a symphony of light. They are beautiful in a way that nothing else is, and nothing else could ever dream to be. They intertwine with one another, forming families of constellations and creating a sight like nothing Saeran had ever imagined possible. They light up the world, and for the first time, Saeran can see it as it stretches for miles and miles, a whole galaxy of possibilities. Each one twinkles and sparkles in greeting. To his surprise, Saeran can feel their excitement; they are excited to see him. Their colours fill his soul, and he aches to be one of them. 

And there, like a lighthouse within the storm of the ocean, is the moon. Like a forgotten lover, she calls to him. One look is all it takes and he is mesmerized, completely and utterly lost in the light of her glow. 

Saeran.

The voice was a breeze blowing softly through him, and it called his name with such tenderness, such care, possibly even… love? Now wouldn’t that be a strange sort of thing. Love, for a nightmare like him? Yes, he mustn’t let him himself forget, even in the paradise of a place like this, he was a nightmare within a dream, a beast amongst beauty, and the blackhole of his heart would tear this goodness to shreds. He couldn’t let that happen. No, as much as he wanted to stay, and oh, did he want to stay, he wouldn’t let himself be this selfish. He wouldn’t watch his happiness be ripped from him again. He had to leave, had to get out, had to find a way to wake up, had to-

Saeran.

He hears it again, and this time he realises the voice is definitely feminine. The way she says his name holds him captive. He hadn’t been able to feel a thing, now all of a sudden he feels her, and the warmth in her glow. He feels her surrounding him. He feels her hands, as though one was stroking his cheek and another tangles itself in his hair, grounding him, but never trapping him.

Oh, Little Prince. My cloud wanderer. My star wonderer.

He melts into her soothing touch as though there is no other choice. Her light finds its way to his every corner, lighting him up from the inside, and extracting all his fear. It reminds him that this is where he exists in the present. All that matters is this moment. He hadn’t realised in his sudden calmness that his eyes had closed themselves again, shying away from the light as he was used to doing, until he hears her say;

Look. Look at all of your stars. They shine for you and only you. With each breath you take, you grant life to a new star. They exist because you exist. This is your galaxy.

Her words were a command his soul did not possess the ability to disobey, as though she retained complete control over him, and so he opens his eyes and looks. He tries to take it all in; the words of which their truth he feels in some deep, unexplored part of his soul, and the billions of lights, each one its own individual life, all shining for and because of him. If he had been on earth right now the truth of it all would have brought him to his knees. He feels like he is falling. How...how could all of this exist for him? How could a creature like him even pretend to be worthy-

Let go, my love. You are not falling, but flying.

He wants to let go, has been trying for it seemed the entirety of his existence, but the weight of his heart was an anchor to the world with which he no longer wanted to have anything to do, especially not now. Not after seeing exactly where it was his soul could escape to.

A heart is a heavy burden indeed. And yet you handle yours so well, little one. My starlit dreamer, to love as you do is a wondrous thing. Flowers grow to meet your smile. Birds sing their joy when they feel your presence. A soul as pure as yours, and a star as sweet as you, well, it’s no surprise the weight of the love in your heart made you sink, and the Earth claimed you for itself.

He feels it now. The pull of the night. The song of the stars that matched the one his soul had been singing alone for so long. He is a star. A star with a heart too full of love. And it had caused him to fall to the Earth.

You have become earthbound, and now so many worlds exist within yours, within you, within the wonders of your eyes.

Although of course the truth is shocking, more than anything, he feels a wave of welcomed understanding wash over him. He is as calm as the night. He hasn’t learnt a new truth, it’s more like unlocking a very old memory. But it is a truth nonetheless, and one he hopes he can carry with him. A truth he hopes he will be able to recall on those recurring nights of agony, when it felt as though all the world were against him. 

You know who you are in your heart, little one. You have survived until now. You have been brave, and you will be braver still. The stars have already written your name amongst theirs, and there it will always remain. Your home is only a dream away.

Then why, he wants to scream. If his home is amongst the stars and the love and the light of the galaxy, if he is so special to them, then why is he cursed to a life of pain and heartache? Why can’t he remain here, where for the first time in his life he feels loved and like he has an understanding of the world, he has a grasp on the workings and intricacies of life, and he doesn’t feel like he’s on the cusp of letting go? 

The Earth needs you, precious one. There are lives you are going to save and smiles you’re going to bring to so, so many people. They need you. And they will love you more than you could ever imagine. Your struggles make you stronger, so that your heart may find the hearts of those that need you, and in turn you may pass on your wisdom and your love to save them. And every time they look up at the stars, on the painful nights as you have, they will see you there, shining brightly, and they will know they are safe. They will know they are loved. They will know there is a world out there waiting for them, and there are lives for them to save in turn. 

You know the truth of who you are. You will carry that truth with you for always, it is not something your soul can forget. When the days are hard and the nights are long, remember that you are loved by stars both up here, and stars that are like you, whose overflowing hearts have caused them to fall through the night and land upon the Earth. You need each other, and together, you will shine across every darkened corner of a land that feels lost. Discover it. Discover yourself, and the weight of the love within you. 

I will always be with you, dear one. The stars in your eyes are the tears in mine, and though there may be little rest for the moon, your existence will never be a burden to me. I exist to guide you through the night. 

Saeran feels himself growing sleepy; not tired, as though it is torture to his eyes to keep them open. Not exhausted, as though even sleep isn’t enough to fix him. But safe, warm, full of love and of light, as though he himself were just a little cloud floating carelessly through the sky.

Rest now, my angel. Tomorrow, your eyes will once again light up the sun. For now, may you rest, and allow me to take on your worries. Whenever your heart bubbles over with fear, may your dreams carry you home, where we will always be waiting. 

And as Saeran gives in to the waves of sleep pulling him under, he rests his head against the gentle surface of the Moon, and the smile on his face is bright enough to be seen from Earth.

#mysmerbb #mystic messenger #saeran choi

[darkdevasofdestruction]

I really really love the when you become a fallen piece, could I possibly have that with Diavolo? Pretty please? Thank you for reading this.

Yes, definitely! I will write this here, so I hope it’s not weird!  I was debating whether or not I should post it on the other thread with the brothers, but maybe here it’s okay too <3

P.S. after I wrote it: I MAY HAVE GONE A BIT OVERBOARD WITH IT, OOPSY DAISY-

---

Long ago, before the Celestial War happened, you, as another Seraph, would look up at Lucifer and how he was loved by everyone, how his brothers adored him...And you?

You were like a caged dove, without any bit of freedom...

You were raised and taught - not like all the other angels - but you were meant to be the key to the Devildom and Celestial Realm allegiance.

You were meant to be the future King of Devildom’s future wife.

So while Lucifer received praises from Gods, from the Cherubim, from the other Archangels...

You, on the other hand, only received criticism from the lower-angels constantly on your back, punishing you if you didn’t behave as you were meant to.

And your dark feelings kept harbouring inside your heart for a long time.

These feelings were only amplified tenfold when Lucifer had the audacity to rebel, along with his brothers, and was welcomed with open arms in the Devildom, by the same man that was supposed to become your Husband...

How vile.

And you wondered...

If you were to rebel and run away as well...

Would he welcome you with so much enthusiasm?

...Of course not, why would he?

He may be your soon-to-be Husband, but all the angels were strict: “You must be his wife, but never grow feelings for such a disgustingly impure, immoral, unethical and vile monster such as him. He is evil incarnated, that’s why he’s the future Demon King!”

So you kept enduring and enduring, until you were finally brought before him, not yet to wed, but to spend the day together and get used to each other.

Needless to say, Diavolo, despite thinking that Lucifer was gorgeous...He found you to be more than ethereal, for lack of better words in any language.

He was happy, he wanted you by his side, despite all the inhibitions and shyness that were brought along with you, but he understood the situation, he was already aware of it, thanks to Lucifer, who was already aware of the problem, naturally.

So for the whole day, he tried to help you ease around him, to look at him with your beautiful E/C orbs that sparkled like the stars in Heaven, to see you, without your wings covering you, as all Seraphim had the habit of doing, he wanted to hear your crystalline voice, loud and clear, not just whispering in his ear whenever you had the courage to say something.

He wanted to hear your laugh, that would be like a lullaby to his ears, he wanted to see your genuine smile, that made his heart explode with a myriad of emotions.

And more importantly, he wanted to touch you, to feel you skin, delicate and soft like a cloud, to taste your lips that were sweeter than any Celeastial Realm dessert.

He wanted you, and he wanted to make you his partner in crime, to tease Lucifer and his brothers, to make witty schemes and pranks together, to sneak around, to make fun, to dance, to laugh, to walk around, to have dates, to do so many things together.

Diavolo was so eager for your wedding together, and so were you, frankly.

You found safety and solace around him, something that you never thought would happen any time in your life, and now you realised why Lucifer was welcomed so nicely to his Kingdom - Because Diavolo wasn’t evil and merciless as the angels wanted her to believe, he was a benevolent ruler who only sought the good of his people and wanted all 3 Realms to be equal and be peaceful.

This didn’t sit well with the angels when you returned back to the Celestial Realm, as they could see you vibing with happiness, they could see your cheeks pink like the roses from the Garden of Eden, and more...Your heart...It was trembling with emotions.

You were in love with the Demon Prince.

You destroyed the allegiance without even realising, and the angels were furious with you for ruining all the centuries of trying to educate you properly, to make you become an obedient little wife.

You screwed up for falling in love with the man you were supposed to marry.

And now, you had to receive the Divine Retribution that few angels had the misfortune to deal with.

You were thrown out of Heaven.

You were let to fall down, from the Celestial Realm, to the Devildom, while all the other angels were throwing insults at you, for being a shame to God and your title as a Seraph, and that you deserve every bit of pain you will have to endure in the future.

Barbatos had already forseen this happening, so Diavolo was waiting for you to fall, so he would be there to catch you before you hit the ground, not wanting you to feel more pain that you must already endure.

Of course, as Lucifer had already gone through all this before, he was informed about the agony, the transformations and the changes in one’s body, but even so, he wasn’t prepared for how emotionally gut-wrenching the sight of the woman he loved so much, sobbing in pain, just because...

Just because she held the same emotions as he did for her.

It wasn’t fair.

Why should she have to suffer for loving someone, while he was safe and sound, not even feeling an ounce of physical pain, nor trauma?

He was holding you tightly to his chest, not even feeling anything while you were clawing at his back and arms from the pain, not able to think or speak coherently, as he could only watch your feathers and a pair of wings slowly burn, even the bone structure of it, while stumps of bone and keratin were protruding from underneath your scalp, getting bigger and bigger, and twisting around in intricate shapes, resembling that of some animal.

“This is not fair! This is not fair! Why...! I was raised to be your wife, but now that I want to, I’m being punished! Is it so immoral to have feelings? To love your Husband? Why is nothing I do ever good for anyone? Why can’t I ever be like the ones I admire so much? Am I really fated to waste away and rot like a caged bird forever?” you’d cry out, as Diavolo put your hands on his own horns, to tug on them, to make himself feel the same hatred, rage, agony, despair as you did, because you were bound by an unbreakable bond, wrapped with the string of fate, from heart to heart.

Diavolo felt powerless for the first time in his life, as there was nothing that could stop, or even lessen such pain - no medicine, beverage, food nor plant or drug - and he could only hold you and curse every living being for not being able to keep you safe from all this madness.

Since he was born a demon, he never had to endure any pain, but seeing you go through it all, it made him want to find some curse and curse himself, so all the pain you’d feel, he’d feel as well, just to punish himself for making you go through all this - Because he blames himself, even if he would never tell it to you, in fear of making you feel even worse.

He wasn’t sure how many days passed until your physical agony subsided and your wings were charcoal black, like a raven’s, and your horns were fully out, but he knew that the worst wasn’t over yet.

Every day, he had to hold you and reassure you that he’ll never leave you, and that he loves you and he would never give you up, just because you are not a Seraph anymore - Your beauty was as ethereal as always, no matter what.

He had Barbatos make sure you bring you food to help you get used to the Devildom cuisine, without purging, because your body wasn’t used to bats and poisoned apples, but to cloud cakes and paradise fruit.

He would hold you tight every night, allowing himself barely a wink of sleep, as he felt it his duty to guard over you while you slept, so you wouldn’t be plagued by night terrors, even going as far as casting spells to help you sleep better, not even sure if they worked or not.

He would get you all sorts of clothes and jewellery, showing you off to everyone as soon as you were ready to step out of your shared room, because you were the most beautiful being alive, and nothing was going to erase that fact - And neither should you ever forget it.

Because Diavolo loved you with all his heart, and was waiting patiently for the day when you’d be able to get fully accustomed to your new life as a demon - But not any demon, but THE Demon Queen - so he could start preparing the Wedding, with you by his side, letting Asmo to style your hair, do your make up and style your wedding dress, making sure it matches with some colour with Diavolo’s suit too, while you two and the brothers, mainly Satan and Belphie, would choose how to decorate the wedding venue, the Ballroom, and Levi would help with the music, while Mammon would provide entertainment and Beel would be in charge of the menu.

And Lucifer would be the one to walk you down the isle, as he was the one you looked up to for so long and gave you the courage to aspire for freedom.

You were finally where you belonged, and you were happy, with the one person you loved with all your heart, and went through so many hardships for, and you had nothing more to fear any longer, because nobody would be as stupid as to go against the rules of THE Demon King just to harm you.

Especially not while he always had his arms and wings wrapped protectively around you.

#obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x seraph #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo imagine #obey me diavolo x angel #fallen angel #fallen #diavolo #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagine #diavolo x reader #diavolo imagine #angel x demon

[rouiyan]

𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the first volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: prince jeno is willing to trade his heart and soul for the throne. but lee jeno is also willing to trade his heart and soul for you.

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 7.0k ✧ disclaimers : brief descriptions of nudity (nothing sexual), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), malintent

✧ author’s note — i have a bad case of 'lee jeno will forever sit atop my bias list, unmoved,' but i guess this is just my way of coping. happy reading, loves.

back to series masterpost: till death do us part.

prince jeno will never be king. he will never sit atop the throne and his plates will always be silver, not gold. he shall be addressed with 'prince' prior to his name, always and perpetually, and until he's wrinkly, gray and even through the eons after he passes, he will only ever be 'prince jeno.' and this is only because of his stoic-faced brother, crown prince doyoung, who is always a step out of reach. born a little more studious, a little more driven, a little more empathetic, and born a little earlier. jeno knows this, his parents know this, even the kingdom is fully aware, that jeno is an example of what a future king should look like, but also that doyoung is the epitome. 

but if there's one thing that jeno excels at, in greater lengths than his brother, it'd be his sense of independence. at the ripe age of one, jeno was already on his own two feet, quick and adept. at three, he could eat solid foods and put on his clothes without aid. at six, he'd gone out of his parent's willingness to learn professional swordsmanship. and at ten, he'd sworn, one sudden night in a fit of angry tears, that he would never marry. he was ten, just touching on double digits, yet he'd never felt such fervent ardor for any one thing. lee jeno was convinced, by none but himself, that he was better off alone, in marriage, in friendships, in brotherhood, in family. he needn't no one but himself for he knew more than anyone, his own capabilities. but he also knew that no matter how ardent he was in his endeavors, he would never be king, at least, not of the southern kingdom.

as he draws himself straight, emerging from the black marbled carriage drawn by horses of black mane, he sets his sights on the scene that unfolds before him. the northern castle is fortified in pristine white; white footbridges, posterns, battlements, towers and pinnacles, and all that meets the eye upon first glance. in the moment, the sunlight is cascading down between passing clouds, reflecting across the rounds of the turrets like thick coils of luminescence. the castle itself, though, serves as a halo of radiance that rests above a breathing orchard which is then, set behind a pathed meadow of gently mowed lawns. there's a noticeable wind that courses through the splaying fields, gurgling the water of the moat he'd just passed and ruffling the wildflowers. jeno's spirits lift as clusters of petals lift from their stems, undulating with the chorus of the wind and wafting a delicate scent.

the prince is accompanied, on either side, by his guards dressed in black and gold accents, he himself, wearing an ensemble of a similar but more explored palette. he's guided by a man of the recipient kingdom, dressed contrastingly in white, that strides a few paces ahead of the arriving group through the orchard of dew-laden trees, their boughs offering bundles of green apples low enough to be grasped by the hand.

it's easy for jeno to momentarily forget the reason he is here in the first place.

he stands, that night, under a flurry of blinding crystal chandeliers and in line with others, kindred to his age and stature, first as a guest and foremost as a suitor. a man enters from the archway on the left, stout but tall in posture, and he announces, "arrival of crown princess y/n of the northern kingdom, followed by the king and the queen of the northern kingdom."

jeno fails to notice how his own breath hitches, but notices the man next to him stir at the sight of you. for good reason, he thinks. your dress is nothing short of seraphic, a layered piece of cream silk upon silk, built up into a fitted bodice and sweetheart neckline. a pearled bodkin swirls back the upper half of your hair, allowing the supple skin of your face to spangle in the light. it's from this he understands that the rumors of your beauty are not half moonshine. he disregards the soft features of your face and focuses on the way you curtsy, gentle but profound, for each member of the line, a bow sent in return for each adjacent man. jeno is careful in his observations but he cannot seem to find a fault in your movements, each tailored to the exact second. your eyes, your attention, your pleasant countenance, spends no more time on himself than the others. this is one of the two things he notes during the feast, the second being your father, the king, taking a blatant liking to whom he knows to be the crown prince of the western kingdom, na jaemin.

an alliance as solid as marriage between the western and northern kingdoms would perhaps be the turnover of the century, a threat to be reckoned with. the aqueducts of the western kingdom, the pure water it provides for the region and its people, paired with the flourishing arts and wealthy merchants of the northern kingdom would yield tremendous power over the agriculture of the eastern and the coal mines of the southern. jeno is sharp in calculations, his resolve shifting and with this, the arranged trip becomes a lot clearer in purpose. he stares ahead, knowing that he has little charm to offer to the miss, but imagining himself on the throne of the northern kingdom for a change. albeit, next to you, but he'll find it in him to deal with that in the long run and for the time being, divert his attention to the young highness.

dinner clears out and the party moves into the nearest drawing room in the west wing of the palace. the princess and her parents are escorted earliest and jeno utilizes the opportunity to make his objective clear with whom he sees as his primary source of competition, the prince of the western kingdom. prince jaemin has a smile gracing his face at all times, a habit that jeno has come to despise the more time he spends looking at. "how do you fair with the princess' impression, mind i ask?" jeno is taken off guard when the boy speaks first, now standing beside him, both gazes held up front instead of at each other. he rights his expression before replying curtly, "a sight to behold, no doubt, but i find her to provide amusing company withal."

"and is that all you see her for? an eyeful and merriment?" jaemin's tone gives way to how he's condescendingly sneering at the prince, in distaste by means of long forgotten familiarity.

jeno doesn't bother to answer for it is now within his knowledge, and the other's, that his intentions are unearthed. jaemin continues, his voice light but carrying heavy weight, "i'd hope that she chooses wisely. the princess deserves her throne." 

they are ushered from the vicinities of the dining parlor into the drawing room. the space is lit with candles that glint and flit across the pale green plaster, lined with golden leaf molding and wainscotting. the walls encasing the room are at least a bountiful twenty feet high, the echoes of thirty or so people colliding off the ceilings and upon the polished floor. nothing remarkable can be said besides the fact that the churnings in the pits jeno's stomach become painfully acute with each step you take towards him, and that he, in turn, can't help but take further steps back.

jeno returns to his assigned quarters without a word spoken to or from you. he does not feel belittled by the others, in fact, he knows his royal blood gives him a hefty advantage over the sons of advisors, distant cousins, older merchants, and others of far off importance. he retires into the crisp white sheets after he blows out the already billowing candle by the bedside. prince jeno only dreams of the throne, the only visions he has ever come to see behind the veil of his eyelids, but it's tonight that he's met with you. smile wide in response to something he's said, an act of jest maybe. he smiles along and towel dries your hair lovingly, brushes through it with tender fingers, lays you upon the bed in fluid motions. it's the morning after that he wakes up with no recollection. 

the following day is open to any and every pastime the palace has to offer, the only program being the ball in the evening, a gathering of formal introductions by footwork and intense stares. jeno doubts the princess will have enough stamina to follow through with thirty or so consecutive dances, each with different men, but he's adamant to be one of the few. he's ambling directionless in the castle, unaware of which halls leads to what and in the forefront of his mind, he's looking for you, as he is sure many others are as well. he stumbles upon a dusty balcony, evidently unused, by the landing of the fourth level that opens up to an expanse of flowers, rows and rows of varying genera, each blooming in full vigor. it's here that he finds you, frolicking among the reposeful blossoms, mirrors of your countenance that rise to your waist. from what he can see, you're walking alongside the small dirt paths with a brown haired boy of sun kissed skin. hand in hand you walk, and he can almost see the pleasant smile the boy adorns and the vibrancy you radiate. 

jeno learns from a maid with a adoring smile, that the boy is prince donghyuck of the eastern kingdom, the youngest son of four and therefore the most unfit match for a crown princess, a spiteful thought that jeno can't help but think. he also learns that he is the one boy, the one person, you've been the closest with since birth and that, out of anger and disapproval, your mother had invited the suitors for the purpose of serving you a more worthy husband and future king. the maid now sports a frightful expression, knowing that she had crossed her bounds by oversharing. jeno is glad though, and reassures her that the secret is safe with him.

he dresses accordingly for the ball, and while many of the fellow suitors donned garments of white to match your family's signature, jeno cannot find a single piece of his that holds the same hue. the color black oozes from the lapels of his pressed suit jacket, from the tie and shirt underneath. the color is second nature to him, one of his own family, and he gives it no thought.

perhaps it's the color, though, that catches your eye that night because you prance over to him not a half hour after the ball commences. kind eyes that feel so welcome on his skin, and though the churns and froths have resurfaced in his gut, he offers his hand in the first and last dance of the night. you say yes to both but the last is when he starts to chip off the guise of royalty to reveal the ramblings of a young girl.

"i'm not in love with him, most certainly not, but i feel strongly that if i were ever granted a say in marriage, it would not be of anyone in this room, no, i would marry my dearest companion." jeno fails to admit that the smooth vibrations of your voice are enough to set fire to his resolve, the purpose behind your hand on his shoulder and his around your waist. 

he draws you in, "and why not marry for love?" though he's sure he doesn't mean to.

"and why not should my love for a close confidante count? is it not love all the same?" you pull from him and jeno follows in step of the music to twirl you back into his embrace, just the way a prince should.

"i believe the love you speak is of the head," jeno counters. the ball is in his court, but he pays it no attention, sincere in obtaining an answer, "i am asking why you should not marry for love of the heart?"

"of the heart," you repeat to yourself, an utterance that jeno finds so endearing but cannot bring himself to immerse in. "i've yet to encounter such an emotion. may i ask, has the prince himself ever held such affection towards another?"

he chuckles, "i only know of once where another held my gaze captive. i know little of her, yet i can speak quite arduously on her behalf."

"what a sight she must be," you muse, partially uninterested now that your partner has declared the purpose of his attendance entirely political by speaking of his one true love whilst in your presence.

prince jeno stops, the hand of his on your back slots for more support and he lowers your figure down by the waist, hie eyes never leaving yours and your noses touch, "yes, you are quite the sight." 

prince jeno's passed the golfing greens, the rose gardens, the hiking trails, and the fencing grounds, but he has yet to find something that catches his eye, something he has never seen. as a southern kingdom native and royal, the northern kingdom is easily foreign territory. the air is clear here, there's no soot to brush off when you head inside, and a step outside the walls of the palace, he knows he'll find artisan markets that run for miles instead of coal sites. the artisan markets, he thinks, is where he wants to go. 

he's just tipping into the edge of the thick forest that lines the southeastern bounds of the estate when his ears pick up on the babble of a creek. jeno's quick to brush through the creepers and ramblers until the trees give into an expanse of open air. the creek he'd thought he heard is in actuality a wide bathing pool, the water a clear green. he spots a level bronzed rock on which you lay, bare-skinned, the direct sunlight engulfing your figure in glorification. quickly, he diverts his eyes and clears his throat to announce his presence. you're also quick to your feet at the sound, scrambling to grasp at your robes strewn about. 

to your surprise, the man, whom you've now identified as the second prince of the coal mines, has not left and is simply standing still, his back turned to you. it's now you that clears your throat and he understands well enough by turning back around to face a clothed you, the flames of his cheeks withstanding. 

"it's quite alright, you know, nothing to be embarrassed about." he hums in response and you proceed with your thoughts, "but i'd like to affirm it was by chance, was it not?"

jeno clasps his hands behind his back, willing his eyes to yours, "surely by chance, i would no- never- not dare, such intentions are not-" he's cut off by your chuckles, light and airy, like bouts melancholy chords to his ears. the prince, a boy who had been schooled by only the finest etiquette scholars of the region, finds himself blundering for words. jeno is undeniably embarrassed by now, but his eyes soften as you take steps towards him, fingers fumbling to tie your robes shut. 

the heat in his cheeks is still very noticeable but his shortness of breath is not. the prince even goes so far as to close the distance between the two of you himself, hands coming to your aid in lacing the strands of ribboned satin together, gently tugging it into a looped butterfly. you think his favored form of communication is the clearing of his throat for he does it once again, "will you allow me hold account for my mishaps?"

"you hardly did much wrong, your highness." his nose scrunches at the formality.

"then may i repay you for your forgiveness?"

your expression isn't shy to conceal your incredulity at his persistence, "my, now i cannot help but be a tad bit intrigued. what can you offer than i cannot already find on my own land?"

"allow me," he pauses, a smile forming before he can even let you in on his gracious idea, "to give you a tour of the artisan marts, what do you suppose?" the smile is contagious, infectious even, spreading onto your face as well, "a mineral boy to guide me through fine arts? i think i ought to say yes."

your peals of laughter are imminent in the air of sundown. he thinks the painted coasters are plates, he sees the tapestries as scarves, the delicate ribbons as horse whips. but when the two of you come across an array of jeweled accessories, he has the gall to sneak a sapphired hair pin from the display and slot it between your locks, the hood shielding your identity from passerbyers  falling back. you're eyes are blown wide at this but jeno simply smiles, fingers coursing through two entangled tresses, courtesy of the abrasion on the rough commoner's fabric. 

"a pretty face like yours should never have to hide," he chides. jeno's eyes form soft crescents and he's subtle when he takes your hand in his, "wouldn't want to lose you, princess." you see him slip a gold coin for the dear madam selling the goods before he's off, jogging lightly and pulling you close to his back. the destination is unknown to you but the man seems to lead with an air of awareness. he slows a few blocks down, allowing you to catch your breath as you note that his hood has also been brushed back. returning the favor, you go on your toes to ruffle the strands into place, not missing the surprised flinch his composure gives way to. people left and right are starting to notice, it just so happens that the two of you are stood right in the middle of all the commotion that comes with the afternoon wave of customers. "over here."

jeno's hand is in yours again and you wonder if it's the cause of the heavy hammering in your heart. you wonder, because though it is certainly not an unwelcome feeling, you doubt you've ever felt it beat so hard. his hand gives your own a squeeze and it's as if your heartstrings have been strummed like a guitar, his ragged breaths music to your ears, a remedy for your aches. the narrow alleyway he's entered hosts a light at the end and it opens up into a view of the town, the terracotta-tiled roofings, bronzed candle streetlamps, public works funded by your mother, and all the townspeople going about their days, now in miniscule movements. the sun is just about setting but from the looks of it, it might as well be seen as rising. afterall, who is to say that only sunrises bring new days? new times, new beginnings, new understandings, new loves are all brought about just as much from sunsets as sunrises. and if there's one thing to prove that, it's the way jeno's hand never leaves yours, not for the rest of the night. 

"and they'd asked if i should want to extend the stay for anyone."

prince jeno crosses his room and leans upon the footboard of his bed. a week certainly isn't enough to develop a bond of marriage but he is glad to acknowledge that it doesn't get any better than this. "and did you?" he knows where you're going with this, you know that he knows, the whole palace knows that you know that he knows. why else would crown princess y/n head down to the guest quarters, to ask for the room number of a specific boy, if not to tell said boy, whom she had spent almost every second of the week with, that she would like it if he stayed? 

"yes, i did, i requested your stay. late yesterday, in fact, but i didn't have it in me to inform you until now." you're blushing and he's thrust into the awareness that the feelings you subject him to aren't customary. "will you be staying?" his eyes are unwavering on yours as if to tell you exactly what he means to say before he eventually does, "it'd be my pleasure."

a knock on the door breaks the moment, but jeno is quick to call the maid in. a letter is tucked between her fingers and upon delivery, the prince recognizes his name printed in the neat scrawl of his mother. an absentminded, "thanks" is followed up by the zealous unsheathing of the letter, a ill-minded idea of the content already forming in the forefront of his mind.

our dearest jeno,

it has come to our attention that you plan on extending your stay until a month's time. officials of the northern kingdom are already working in conjunction with our advisors to plan a date. of most excitement did it certainly incite within your family. had i known you'd be married off to a lass of such prestigious blood, i would have sent you much earlier. your father would love to hear of your methods of courting, perhaps your brother could do well with it no doubt. i've no time to spare, the schematics of your succession are coming fast in the drawing room. expect no less than the best and send my warmest regards to the young highness.

all the best, your dearest mother.

"she'd like to welcome you to the family, that's what's said." jeno's thankful that you decided to teeter over to him now, after he finished skimming through the damned article. he has time to fold it closed before you're by his side, fingers reaching for his. he's rubbing smooth lines into the ridges of your palms. "i suppose they are all thinking the same thing, marriage."

you speak, "do you suggest that it's wrong of them?" but jeno wishes you'd get to the point so he can tell you just what he means.

"not wrong, but natural. if i was my father i doubt i'd think any different."

"then, if not your father, how would you think?"

"i think," he's drawn to the way your teeth bite down on your lips. "i think i'd like it." his thoughts block out everything except the image of your lips and he ponders following through with the ideas plaguing his mind. jeno goes in when you draw back, turning to hide your flushed state. you're retreating even further now, taking an exit all together but not before clearing the air. "breakfast tomorrow at seven, east wing. ask a maid if you are unsure."

next time, he thinks.

breakfast is silent sans the clattering of cutlery on plates but jeno finds baseline joy in the shy glances that you sneak at him across the table. he does not, however, particularly like the prolonged stares your father blatantly spends on him. jeno thinks he's about to look away, for the sixth time at that, when the elder decides upon the moment to speak, "a striking young man, i'll let that. y/n, dear, pray tell me your decision was not built on his good looks." your father is rather speaking to you.

your face burns up in tinged mortification, "father, that is hardly an appropriate question to bring up over the course of a family meal-"

much to your chagrin, the king pays no heed to your interjections and resumes, "preposterous as it may seem, i would despise if our ranks were to be infiltrated by those of the miner's kingdom. our liberal arts are not so often mixed with a line of lowly traitors, an observation may i add-"

"father! oh, how lowly it is of you to be restricting a kind young sir of royal blood to the bounds of his heritage!" your mother has halted in her tracks, setting a golden spoon aside and retreating her hands to her lap.

"must you forget that the blood in him courses silver not gold?" your father's voice never raises, never lowers. you fail at maintaining the same composure, distress budding between outbursts. 

"color does not render the propriety of one for better or worse. i believe that was what you'd taught me to rule by but for laughs or for naught, a king you so-call yourself!" 

breakfast is silent once again, but this time, not even the aid of cutlery against plates is around to sheath the tension in the air. jeno's enlightened to learn of this side of you. your eyes are hardened, your jaw left slightly unhinged, and deep breaths are taken to retain any sort of semblance. he sees determination in your eyes, lined with a raw and unearthed air of conviction, and there's no other way to describe the look on your face except to say that you are solely driven by a vehement passion for righteousness. but drawing back from the you who has captivated him, he's left with the realization that he hasn't given a second thought to his original resolve since setting foot in the palace. and while the four of you sit in silence, glares and glowers being thrown about, prince jeno is daunted by the fact that more than ever, he feels the fervent ardor that in order to be a king, deserving of accolade and reverence, he needs you by his side to be his queen.

"what my father thinks is beyond me, really. i'd only hope what he said doesn't deter you all that much." you pop a cherry into your mouth, fingers clasping the stem and tugging it off with a pop. jeno looks down at you in adoration, the events of this morning a figment of the past. "not much at all for me, if it doesn't bother you." the soft smile that fills his countenance is given as if to say, 'as you wish, my love.'

you sit up abruptly, the thin cotton cloth scrunching under your thighs. the grass is still dewy from the morning showers but you slip off your sandals in favor of the bare grit of soil beneath your feet. the sun is beginning to stutter from its position overhead but not so fast, you think, the day has just begun. with one last look spared for the bewildered boy, you mouth a 'catch me if you can,' before bundling up the folds of your linen dress into your hands and taking off into the open fields. native flowers of poppies and calendula, orange and white, are trampled in your wake but you don't mind because prince jeno is hot on your heels. he is hot on your heels with a grin of mirth gracing his expression and strides that are long and fast. so fast that you are caught within a matter of seconds, encased in his arms before you even know it, feet lifting off the ground and squeals of protest in response. the adrenaline in your system is slow to subside as you land on your feet once again, eyes lit up like a child's in front of santa claus. the verdant grass looks a murky brown behind your rose-tinted glasses but prince jeno continues to look ethereal. grasping his dark locks in a fistful, you tug him down so that your lips meet and in no time, his lips are working fast against your own. the sensations are nothing short of paradisiacal, as opposite ends of the planet meet, the sun and the moon, the sky and the earth, summer and winter, water and fire, and silver and gold.

wet and slippery, you laugh at the strand of saliva that spreads thinner as you part from his lips. jeno repositions so that you are situated on his back and he allows you to catch your breath before strolling aimlessly across the grounds, as if what happened seconds beforehand didn't just mark the beginning of time. he takes you back inside once the sun has set and your eyelids are half closed. he waits outside in your chamber as you bathe and he stands behind you as your sit in front of your vanity, hair dripping wet and a towel in hand. jeno is gathering your hair in his hands, smoothing over your wet locks with the cloth when he remembers. he remembers the dream he had just over a fortnight ago. the one where he stood in this exact spot. he remembers it just as he sees you give a small chortle in the reflection of the mirror in response to him playfully pulling your hair a little too hard, an act of jest. the trickling feeling of déjà vu hits him so terribly hard but he can only live out the dream in real time, his fingers gently raking your now dried hair. he spins you in his seat and decides that whatever vision he was granted hadn't been revealed to him until now for the very reason being that he simply wasn't ready. the jeno of two weeks ago wasn't ready to love another, to accept another, to cherish another as he does now. now, for you. 

prince jeno's eyes are glazed over in awe and revelation as he feels the way your hands draw him closer to you by his waist, entwining your bodies. he's overcome with the need to be the one to make you feel the same way you do unto him. gingerly he lifts you from your spot, hands hooking under the crevice beneath your knees with your arms riding up to his shoulders while effectively removing his shirt in one fluid motion. he's glad that you share the same idea. 

that night is the first of many where he shows you the sheer magnitude of which he loves you. he lives for the look of your star-studded eyes, rolling back into your head and the way your toes curl as you call out his name and his name only. he breathes for the way your fingers are in a world of their own as they scour every inch of his hair, pushing and pulling the same way the moon teases its waters. his mere existence is reliant on the shine of his arousal on the bare skin of your stomach. with each time, jeno is reborn.

it's the crack of dawn when he hears your voice, barely scathing the absolute threshold, "i am still very much awake."

"as am i," jeno lifts his head to look across the room, past the dirtied sheets, the swathes of clothes on the ground, to the doors of the balcony that are swung wide open. the sky is of a distilled blue, not yet bright, but still illuminated by the crown of the sun.

"would it be deemed a waste to simply lay here for the duration of the night?" you question, but move to sit up in decisiveness. jeno answers offhandedly once again, even now revelling in the feeling of your skin on his, "i would feel so, yes."

"shall we take a trip to the study? i recall you mentioning a desire to visit." the prince smiles at this. curt again, "if you'd like."

"yes, a warm cup of tea and agreeable literature is an ancient remedy for sleeplessness. my, morning it is already. i don't suppose a morning nap has ever been heard of, though i'd think i'd like just that at this moment." you mumble out the last half, partially rambling to yourself. 

"light a candle, my dear, my eyes aren't half as sharp in the dim light." you chuckle at that and reach for the brass pricket set on your bedside table. upon lighting it, you are met with the boy's face irradiated in such a way that accentuates everything from his sharp jawline to the apples of his cheeks. he smiles as takes the instrument from you to allow you to don some clothes. the same is done for him and the two of you make quick time in rushing across the stale floors of the palace to the opposite wing. 

the main library, situated on the third floor but occupying large parts of both the third and fourth, is certainly the pride and treasure of the palace, the crown jewel of the northern kingdom even. the separate floors are each sixteen feet in height, filled wall-to-wall with encased book upon book. the collection dates back to the romans and as far forward as your most recent journal entry. jeno pads upon the floors that boast a parqueted mahogany, the same that runs along the integrated shelving and the carvings that crown the skylight above. the windows are made of giant panels of stained glass, mosaics that depict the landscapes just beyond, and as a result, the little light the sun has to offer is cast in shades of blue, green, and red. an assemblage of the masterpieces of ettore forti, genuine, he suspects, are hung in individual alcoves and molded with golden embellishments. jeno thinks the northern kingdom simply cannot have anything better to offer than this. except for you, he thinks.

a maid delivers your tea promptly, a gentle brew of loose leaf herbs, ginger and rooibos by the taste of it and you settle into the plush velvet of the segmented lounge. the work you're reading aloud is enough to keep you awake for the better half of an hour before you begin dozing off. your soft and even breaths are enough for jeno to be shaken from his attention on a few select poems, and he's careful when he moves to replace the leather-bound diary in your hands, with a hand of his own. jeno uses his other hand to cradle the side of your face, as any besotted boy would do, caressing by the means of docile strokes. he feels a mellow calm when you're persistent by his side, even in your sleep. tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, he's leaning in for a quick kiss to the temple when the door of the study is propped ajar, a boy of briefer height emerging from the unlit halls. 

jeno recognizes the boy almost instantly, the image of you walking hand in hand with him still as unrelenting in his mind as it was on day one. lee donghyuck, of similar surname but a long-diverging lineage, the fourth prince of the eastern kingdom of agriculture. jeno isn't hit with jealousy, per se, but rather annoyance. 

donghyuck's steps halt the moment he sees the still figure on the juniper-stained chaise. his brows draw in suspicion but he's prudent of the expression he lets on. a dialogue of whispers ensues.

"prince jeno, is it?" donghyuck's face darkens when the other nods. "ah, i've heard of the tidings, may i pass on sincere felicitations to you and your betrothed."

"much obliged, prince donghyuck, i presume." obverse, the aforementioned boy nods.

despite all his efforts, donghyuck can't help but let loose a sliver of his composure, "i have little credit i can give to your word, but i'd like to hear what you have to say in regards to the arrangement."

prince jeno is ticked off now, to say the least, he hides his vexation by keeping his reply as formally insincere as he can muster, "elated, the arrangement could not have been better dealt with." 

"and you are a man that deals in the prospects of union?" donghyuck does not mean to nitpick but there's no way around it when the prince in front of him is so obviously indignated by his presence. you could say that he's been provoked.

voice held level, jeno proceeds, "i am a man of virtue and i come in good faith, i assure you."

"i must inquire, a man of virtue and good faith? i'd like to know of you and your families' conspiracies, falsities, machinations." a snide and low-shot remark, no doubt, but it riles up the taller of the two fair enough.

jeno sussurates, raspy voice and all, "and who are you, brave enough to speak in such a fashion to a second prince."

"gold by marriage is synonymous to silver by birth. why count the numbers when we are one and the same?" donghyuck's voice is still a bare undertone, but harsh and course in resonance. 

"a pity you weren't raised to tell the difference." neither of the princes bother to conceal their malignity for the other. if you were awake, neither would know, too caught up in the heat of their frustration. 

donghyuck is fed up with years of spite and built-up distaste. in between all the blundering he has found a point, a target to aim for. he may not see jeno as a harm to you but he knows there's an unspoken wedge that revolves around his family. donghyuck glows in his opportune moment, then he strikes, "and you were raised upon your father's supremacy. do tell, do you believe your father to be an honest man?"

he is met with jeno's silence, compliance, submission.

the leisure sport of swordsmanship is what prince jeno sets out for first thing after ensuring you had woken and eaten something fulfilling. he is in the need to exert his energy on something, or someone, that isn't an acquaintance of yours, for fear that he has done more damage than good by manifesting himself as an enemy in the eyes of your closest companion. he requests your court's highest ranking knight and is surprised and slightly jarred that the man before him is of a smaller stature, a few inches shorter with narrow shoulders and lean muscles. renjun is the name he goes by and he dominates without the need of force. jeno tells the boy to display his best effort, that a scuff here and there is fine, but he severely misconstrues his opponent's abilities. 

renjun, as it turns out, finds amusement in jeno's stances, flaws evident in ways that only he can see. undermining the prince's pride is what he aims for and he does exactly that, successful with three strokes, two that flit like sparks in the air and the last that scathes the skin of the prince's left wrist. it's small in area and deep in puncture, the raw film underneath unfurling within itself, but it's enough for him to call the session off. jeno's hand withdraws from the new wound and he's met with the sight of red.

the prince is drawn, in many ways more than one, to the red as it seeps between the clasp of his fingers. as it begins its descent towards the fast-approaching floor, the floor of white limestone. he's drawn by the depth he sees within the color, the solidarity he feels towards the hue. in the silver ichor that pools by his feet, he's drawn to his blood red reflection.

jeno finds you retired in your room that night, in exhaustion of formal meetings and other circumstances that required a princess' supervision. despite this, your visage still lights with joy upon seeing the prince. "would you prefer if i let you rest?"

"depends, what will you propose if i refuse?" the lilt to your voice has him almost coddling, his thumbs running circles on the skin behind your ears down to your neck to release the tensions. "i'd propose a midnight adventure, stargazing maybe." 

you give a modest snigger, "a bit of a romanticist, aren't you?"

"only for you i must admit." his tone is humorless. "are you up for it, dear?"

your face returns taut, "yes, needless to say, only for you." 

prince jeno takes you by the hand, he leads and you follow. he makes rounds about the same halls, you think he's unsure of where he is heading, but he comes to a stop at the precipice of the fourth landing. the balcony that leans off to the side is one that you have never stood atop of before though you're unsure why. the outlook it bestows upon you is breathtaking, even in the dead of night. just barely are the outlines of the flowers oscillating in the drafts shown, even fainter are the hills that overlap in the distance, but oh-so-clear is the moon. 

it's quartered today, the slope of the curve is round and prominent. all of a sudden, jeno is quoting ray bradbury, a classic text he knows you'll know a little too much about. "and if you look," he nods to the sky, "there's a man in the moon." as he conjectured, you're quick to catch on the act before the moment dissipates, "he hadn't looked for a long time."

"do you believe in the man in the moon?"

"i believe in the man and the moon, but the man in the moon is very much apparent as well." your eyes are set in the stars. "he is astray and far from the ground, from earth. he does not seek what we all should seek, but rather he dives headfirst into the superficial."

"and what is it that we all should seek?"

"the one thing in the world that carries any significance at all: happiness."

it is now that prince jeno sees himself as the man in the moon, chasing after mirages of aspirations when in truth, he does not find solace in power, he does not revel in the destruction of others, he does not take lightly when the lonely are forsaken and he shall never partake in the atrocities his father subjects him to. but the man in the moon is a conscious past of his, a living memory of growth, for jeno finds happiness in you; you who grounds him to the earth.

lee jeno thinks the world of you and, as the greatest russian poet ever wrote, "she is a beauty. yes, a marble nymph; angelic eyes, unearthly lips…" (Alexander Pushkin, The Collected Works; "A Suite of Lighted Rooms")

read volume two here: overcast skies and those who die.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

#nct ff #nct fics #nct scenarios #nct jeno #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno ff #jeno fanfic #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

[demonfamilytherapist]

Ohoho~love oc games

😜 and🍓 for both please!

I did laugh for Selene, so I'll do the rest! From this ask game.

For Selene:

🍓…someone my muse has never met, but wants to meet.

Up until Season 4, it would've been Raphael. As a seraph, he rarely joined the battlefield himself, but he had a reputation as a powerful fighter with his spears. Selene totally wanted to fight him herself - though she never got the chance.

When he comes to the Devildom though, she'd probably try and see if she could tempt him into a sparring match. Just a friendly match...

For Duck:

🍓…someone my muse has never met, but wants to meet.

Michael. Duck feels like has a lot of the answers she's missing about what exactly went down in the Celestial Realm prior to and after the Fall. Whether she'd actually ask the questions she wants to know the answer to or just give him a piece of her mind is up for debate, though.

😜 …someone who makes my muse laugh.

Mammon! If Duck is upset, the brothers regularly push Mammon to talk to them because he's the best at getting them to cheer up. And Mammon gets to stare at their laughing face without worrying about being caught! It's win-win for both of them.

#ask game #trashy #duck #selene

[awritingtree]

Could I get a golden trio era ship preferably male. I'm 5"0, a virgo and a ravenclaw. I have shoulder length brown hair and dark brown eyes. I have a slim figure, kind of baby face and lots of freckles. I'm very sarcastic and introverted. I love astronomy and anything to do with the stars, I also love reading (mystery books are my favourites), crystals, astrology, flowers (my favourite flower is a jasmine) and true crime. I'm quite shy when it comes to talking to people at first but I do open up eventually

Crystals and Stars

Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!reader

Summary: Draco arrives at the Astronomy tower in hope of some peace and quiet. What happens when he finds a familiar face already there?

Words: 967

Warnings: none

A/N: I legit thought of this at 6am in bed when I was half asleep 

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Ajdjr you sound so soft and lovely 🥺🥺

I ship you with Draco Malfoy!

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“Oh sorry. I didn’t think anyone was here.” You jumped in your seat in surprise and turned around to look at the entrance.

“No, it’s okay,” you shook you head once you realized who it was, “I was just leaving.”

You marked your page with a pressed jasmine flower, reached down to grab your bag and quickly put everything it in.

“NO!”

You looked at him, taken aback at the volume of his voice. He cleared his throat hoping you wouldn't notice his burning cheeks from a distance, “I mean no. You don't have to.”

You stared at him for a second before facing back towards the telescope, pulling your book back out and placing your bag at the foot of your chair.

“So what are you doing here?” Draco asked dragging a chair to take a seat next to you.

You looked up at him and answered timidly, “Oh um. I like to look at the stars.”

Draco nodded in understanding, “Astronomy has always been your favourite subject.”

You looked at him wide-eyed as Draco quickly turned away from you, looking out into the night sky pretending to be nonchalant and praying to Merlin that you didn’t notice his red cheeks.

“I didn’t think you- I mean anyone noticed.”

Draco smiled to himself; ‘I notice. I notice everything about you,’ he wanted to say.

You turned back to the beautiful velvet black sky. Draco turned his head to gaze at the stellar view in front of him. The moonlight illuminated your face, your blue-and-bronze tie standing out against your brown hair. He watched your eyes twinkle like the stars above with a joyous look. Your lips were upturned slightly, enjoying doing what you loved the most. His eyes trailed from your face to the hands adjusting the telescope as you moved on to another constellation. His eyes fixed on fingers, his hand reaching forward unknowingly to trace the rings on them. You were startled by the unexpected touch. His hands were cold but soft, softer than you imagined they would be.

Realizing what he just done, Draco pulled his hand back to his side and quickly began to apologize, “Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

You smiled at him softly, “It’s fine.”

His attention shifted from your mesmerizing brown eyes back to the rings on your fingers.

“What are they for?”

You gestured to the ring on your right-hand index finger, “This is a moonstone. It helps bring about positive thinking and intuition by soothing stress and instability so the wearer can move towards good fortune and success in their endeavours.”

Draco admired the next crystal you pointed at. The crystal was a beautiful golden hue with flashes of flaming orange and yellow through it.

“This is the citrine crystal. It expels negative emotions like fear and instead boosts warmth, motivation and optimism in your life.”

Draco’s attention moved onto the next crystal on your pinkie finger, “Now this one is a sapphire. It’s said to be the stone of wisdom and royalty. It opens the mind to accepting the beauty existing in its surroundings. Plus, I thought it would be fitting for a Ravenclaw,” you finished with a shrug.

Draco smiled at your enthusiasm, the manner in which you explained and spoke about the crystals making him believe maybe they were more remarkable than he’d previously assumed.

“What about yours?” you asked hesitantly.

You didn’t know how he’d react. You didn't want to believe the rumours about how cruel he could be. But you had witnessed from time to time. Therefore you were shocked at the gentleness he spoke with as he admired the ring, twisting it around on his finger, in pride.

“It’s a family heirloom. It’s passed down generation to generation, father to son, on their admittance into Hogwarts.”

He removed the ring and placed it in your palm. You picked it up carefully, not wanting to damage something of such great importance.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“Thank you,” Draco replied quietly.

You handed the silver snake ring back allowing him to slip it back on. Assuming that was the end of the conversation, you went back to mapping the stars in your notebook and Draco sat silently by your side, subconsciously fidgeting with the ring as he watched you do your work. Awhile later he was bought out of his daydream as you stood up from your chair, sliding your bag onto your shoulder. He didn’t realize when you were done and packed your bag.

“Thank you. For keeping me company,” you said, tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear shyly.

Draco responded with a bashful smile, staying silent in fear of saying the wrong thing. You nodded before turning around and heading towards the stairs that would lead you down from the Astronomy tower. Draco stared after you, willing himself to say something, to not lose the chance he’d so clearly been given.

“Wait!” You stopped, turning around to face him with a confused look.

He looked seraphic, the moonlight illuminating his silhouette from the back made him appear as an angel descending from the heavens above. Draco felt his chest constrict, nerves taking over as he opened his mouth to speak. He closed it, clearing his throat trying to gather courage as you sent him a reassuring smile.

“Would you want to- can we maybe do this again?” he asked, his heart beating fast, thumping loudly in his ears.

Your face lit up as you sent him a bright smile, gripping tightly onto the strap of your bag with sweaty hands, “It would be my pleasure.”

Draco grinned widely, relieved at your acceptance.

“I’ll see you later,” you said, waving at him slightly before rushing down the stairs with a matching wide grin on your face.

Draco sighed as he fell back onto the chair, his eyes closed, a pleased smile on his face. He had come to the tower to look for some peace and quiet, some time away from people. Instead, he found something much better, he found you.

400 followers celebration

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[twsted-mirrors]

THE CASINO

DEMON ! AZUL / ARCHANGEL ! S/O

hiii! here’s another addition to the angels/demons au! here’s the first one !

“You were...Apprehensive, to say the least. Really, who wouldn’t be, in this situation?”

Being assigned to your first mission on Earth as a solo operation, even as an Archangel, isn’t exactly...safe?

Especially not when said solo operation is to scope out a notorious demon’s hideout. 

Have we mentioned that this is by herself?

You had no idea what your superiors were thinking. Yeah, you normally trusts the judgement of the two seraphim, but this...even with the tiny team, this is excessive.

Your halo had been discarded before you teleported to a block from the...loud building, the two sets of wings are neatly tucked away. Now, the only thing left is your pure energy. There was a potion you was given, but it was...experimental, and only half-reliable, at best.

Still, better than nothing, you guesses.

The target was a rather coveted aquatic demon, known as Azul Ashengrotto on Earth, but nicknamed Ursula by the Heavens. He gained temporary, but admittedly formidable, power through making contracts, conning the subject out of their belongings, or often their soul.

Then there were the two lackeys. A set of changeling twins, known as Jade and Floyd, or Jetsam and Flotsam. They balance each other out in brains and brawn respectively. Combine that with their service to Ursula, and it’s no wonder they’re all such high-priced targets. You could probably contend for a promotion to Seraphim for taking them down alone.

Their suspected hideout was a casino, likely started by Ursula himself, called “Mostro Lounge”. It was surprisingly hidden between other buildings, but you could smell the darkness, the sin, from half a block away. Ugh.

Remember what everyone told you, look confident, fake it until you make it… That was the latest mantra you were using to calm down.

You’re so fucked, Maker help you.

You finally arrive at the entrance, seeing the (human, after taking a second glance) bouncer take a quick once-over before nodding. Good, you can go in.

Man, if outside was loud, then the inside is screaming. The general color scheme is neon blue, which seems to wash over everything in an overhead hue. Jazz could be heard in the background as patrons filed in and out of the entrance lounge.

There’s the casino, the bistro, and the...rooms? Huh, nobody was made aware of a redlight district in this town, you think. The casino seems like a good start. Get a drink, mingle, fit in. Do what you were trained for.

Except...that didn’t go too well.

You had gotten halfway through some sort of fruity drink in a martini glass and were only approached by three humans before an employee approached, saying “The boss has requested for you.”

You almost passed out right there.

Fuck, not like you could flee by now, you were already noticed by Ursula. Doing anything would most certainly cause a scene, which could cause any kind of shitshow, with humans’ natural unpredictability. Not to mention, somebody will film it, for sure. Especially if someone ends transforming from their vessels.

You really had no choice but to follow.

The employee, dressed in a powder blue and lilac suit, had taken you through a “back route” to...the “rooms” section of the building. After an uncomfortably long elevator ride, you were handed off to--fuck. It’s the changelings.

Motherfucker. Should now be a good time to send a distress signal? The one seraph should be close to finished with scouting the Demon King’s hideout, and both the other seraph and the simple angel are both idle…

“Right this way, Miss.” The one on the left (more composed, structured, must be Jetsam), bows with his left hand on his right breast. 

(Thoughts are running through your head, ones you’re trying to ignore. Disgusting, revolting, vile, impure, sinful, unworthy--)

You step forward, following. Another walk, another long corridor, another uncomfortable, loaded silence. Like the air is embedded in gunpowder, able to be lit with the tiniest spark.

The other one, Flotsam, is perched at the doorway, the stupidest fucking grin on his face.

(You just want to tear that face off. Look, enjoy my efforts, congratulate me on me work, be proud of me, look at how unworthy they are to be in my presence, just like you told me--)

He opens the door. You walk in. The changelings follow, closing it behind you, and then standing guard. 

It was a large room, filled to the brim with decorations revolving around the sea, two large leather couches, stands for good and drinks…

And then the desk. A large, oak desk, with the man himself sitting behind it. 

He was somewhat different from what you expected—namely not towering over you—but he was very intimidating in his own right. A thin young man, with pale skin and even paler white hair, wearing a three piece suit and fedora, the same color scheme as that employee—and the changelings—.

“—aha, my, my, my, and just what do we have here? A little guppy that’s snooped her way into my lounge?” His voice is smooth, taking a slightly deep tone. No wonder he gets so many human clients, he could probably talk himself in or out of whatever he wants.

You freeze. The vessel’s stomach churns. “I wasn’t snooping. I just wanted to have a few drinks, maybe have a few games. What’s wrong with that?” Remember your training, remember your training, remember—.

Flotsam has the gall to giggle from behind you. 

Ursula stands, grabbing a pen from the desk, “Aha! Bullshit. Oh, honey,” He’s walking towards you, “I could smell that stench since you teleported in a block away.”

He’s right in front of you, leaning down to match your height. You try to turn your head, look anywhere but at him, but he’s already acting.

Ursula pushes the pen below your chin, forcing your head up. He taps it once, twice, until you finally look at him.

“There we go, that’s a good guppy.”

“W… what? What the hell are you talking about?” You think you’re going to combust.

“Oh, don’t you play coy with me, little arch,” He leans up, removing the pen (and intense stare), “Jade, Floyd. Hold their arms.”

In an instant, Your arms are held behind you, one by each twin. You have to send the distress signal. Focus, focus…

“And just how…” He’s back in front of you, but this time, looming, rather than in your face like before. He reaches a gloved hand around the waist, to the back, two fingers pressing on the vessel’s middle of the spine. “...Are you going to compensate me?”

You yell, your wings being forcibly torn from the tuck in the back.

You can’t hesitate anymore, the distress signal’s been sent out. The scent of pure fear fills the room, causing Ursula to reel back, and the twins—Jade and Floyd—to weaken their hold on your arms, just for a second.

But a second was all you needed.

A portal of light opened beneath you, with you dropping down, and shut as quick as it opened.

Your seraph had communicated through the link—you had done more than enough for her mission, it was time to help your other seraph, who was being pursued by an extremely strong Fallen One.

The previous events had to be pushed to the back of your mind. That could wait for debriefing, there were other things to focus on, right now.

#bells on the horizon ; will fate reach its prisoners? #angels+demons au #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #hiiii i originally wrotee this in 3rd person so please lmk if i missed anything in editing to 2nd!!

[bytheangell]

Form a Connection

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Omegaverse for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Raphael/Jace/Simon  Rating: Teen – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: alpha/beta/omega dynamics, mentions of fertility issues but it isn’t the focus, true mates, happy ending Summary:   Jace, after years of taking suppressants to be able to patrol and hunt with the Alphas and Betas, finds his world turned on its head when a chance encounter with his True Mates brings everything about himself he's ever fought against rising to the surface. -------------

It’s a big mission. Most of Jace’s missions are routine missions, despite his best efforts to match up with the Alphas and Betas normally sent out on them. He knows that Alec is trying, that the orders don’t come from him, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when the best assignments are given to everyone but him, even if being the only Omega on constant active duty is a huge deal in and of itself.

Once and a while, though, Alec manages to get him on something properly exciting - and the raid on the Hotel Dumort is nothing if not exciting, just not for the reasons Jace expects.

A fledgling is causing trouble in the city, wanted for a few mundane murders, and they’re going in to extract her for questioning. No lethal force if at all necessary, which means some pretty good fights are bound to break out from anyone trying to interfere - like the vampires currently trying to block his path.

That’s when Jace smells them, and in that moment he feels his entire world stop, just for a second.

It’s the longest, most life-altering second of his entire life; because Jace isn’t being drawn to another Shadowhunter, which is expected, or even a mundane, which would be frowned upon but ultimately tolerated. No, Jace just rounded a corner to bring his seraph blade up to the throat of a vampire, with another vampire immediately lunging to pull him off. The first one, who looks rightfully terrified, smells sweet, almost like the vanilla hazelnut coffee Jace is so fond of from the place near the Institute. The angry one, done up in a suit that looks like it’s worth more than Jace has spent on every piece of clothing he’s ever worn in his entire life, smells of leather and patchouli.

They’re the most wonderful scents that Jace has ever smelled and it’s so overwhelming that he loses focus and closes his eyes, just for a moment. At first, all of his instincts seem to kick into overdrive at once: he wants more, he needs more, leaning towards the scents. Then he remembers where he is - he remembers who he is and what they are - and his eyes snap back open as he takes two fumbling steps back.

They make no move to attack Jace now that he dropped his blade, however, and seem to be staring back at him with the same surprised (and possibly a little bit horrified) look of realization as they take him in in turn.

“Raphael…?” The one Jace attacked starts, his words slow and hesitant.

“Carajo,” the vampire in the suit, Raphael, curses in a low tone.

“I-” Jace starts, still processing, before turning abruptly and leaving without another word. The other vampire must make a move to follow him because a forceful “Simon, let him go” is the last thing Jace hears behind him before he’s out of earshot, walking straight out of the Dumort and back to the Institute.

---

Jace barely sleeps that night. Alec is concerned after he vanished without checking in but Jace insists he’s fine and eventually Alec stops asking, at least for now. Not that it matters, because not talking about it doesn’t keep it from his mind.

He wants nothing more than to go back to the Dumort and feel the comfort of Raphael’s scent again. They’re meant to be mates, he knows it, and he thinks the vampire does, too. Of all the Alphas in the world… and he has a Beta already, too. Raphael’s scent was all over Simon, there’s no doubt about it.

Fuck.

He can’t do it. He’s ostracized by the Downworlders enough for who his family is… Valentine raised him, after all, and even if he isn’t around any longer his legacy sure as hell is. And even if Jace did accept this attraction there’s no way any Downwolder would be with him. Not even…

Jace doesn’t want to admit that the pull he felt was more than the average desire. He always thought all that talk of true mates was romantic nonsense but here he is practically drowning in the memory of it. Maybe Raphael didn’t notice - Jace has taken suppressants since before he was even old enough to present as an Omega and with any luck it was enough for Raphael to forget about him.

Any hopes of that being true are dashed the next day when Jace, in the Ops Center with Alec to go over some plans for the week’s missions and patrols, looks up to see Raphael being escorted inside by the two Shadowhunters on guard duty.

Jace’s anxiety spikes and Alec senses it immediately, turning to face Raphael while moving defensively in front of Jace.

“What are you doing here?” Alec snaps.

“I wanted to return this,” Raphael says, stopping where he is a few feet away from them to hold up a dagger. It’s Jace’s dagger, the one he dropped last night before he fled. Raphael looks beyond Alec to Jace who promptly averts his gaze to the papers in front of him. “And I wanted to speak to him.”

“He’s right here,” Alec says, not moving. Jace is grateful because he can smell Raphael from here and it only confirms his suspicions from the night before. He’s never had this sort of physical reaction before… he wants to hate it but he doesn’t. It feels right. What he does hate is how right it feels.

“Alright,” Raphael says, turning his gaze from Alec back to Jace. “Is that what you want? For me to discuss this here, in the middle of a room full of your colleagues?”

Jace swallows thickly. No. He hasn’t even told Alec… he can’t have the entire Institute knowing, he just can’t.

“No,” Jace says quickly. “I’ll speak to him. It’s alright, Alec.” He knows there’s no way Alec believes that, not with the spike in panic tainting everything around him, souring the air.

Alec looks at him in concern. “Jace, what is it?” Alec asks him quietly. “If this vampire’s threatening you-”

“It isn’t that,” Jace promises. “It’s-” Jace starts, but stops again, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you later. I swear it. But I need to talk to Raphael alone first. It’s okay. Really, it is.”

“I promise not to touch a hair on his perfectly styled head,” Raphael swears.

Jace is already walking off towards a side hallway, motioning for Raphael to follow him to an empty room before shutting the door behind them and placing both locking and silencing runes on the door.

Inside, the scent of Raphael is overwhelming, even more so than the night before when he rushed toward Jace to throw him off Simon. Raphael can sense Jace’s hesitation and keeps his distance.

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Raphael starts. “Jace, was it?”

Jace nods. “And you’re Raphael.”

It isn’t a question but the vampire nods in response just the same.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way-”

“Don’t,” Jace cuts him off. “I can’t- we can’t- this can’t happen. I’m sorry.”

Whatever Raphael is expecting, it isn’t that. “Sorry?”

“I can’t be with a Downworlder. You’d never be accepted here, and my father-” Jace shakes his head. “My father’s Valentine. He raised me. I can’t exist in your world.”

“So you think you can make decisions for me? You don’t even know me,” Raphael says, tone strained as he tries to control his frustration. The air in the room seems to sour at once and Jace feels nauseous. He needs to get out.

“I don’t,” Jace admits. “And I never will.”

With that he walks out of the door, telling the two guards lingering nearby to escort Raphael back outside now.

---

Alec finds Jace in the training room shortly after.

“Talk,” Alec demands, not even waiting for the punching bag Jace is hitting to swing to a stop in front of him.

“I think Raphael’s my true mate,” Jace says, not bothering to stall. He promised Alec he’d explain so there’s no point in trying to avoid it now.  “Maybe Simon, too? Can you have more than one? I dunno, I didn’t stay long enough to sort it out.” 

“That’s why you left the raid,” Alec realizes, finally able to put the pieces together.

“Yeah,” Jace admits. “I was hoping I could just ignore it. I’ve been on the suppressants for so long I figured it might block it from him, but it didn’t. He came here to talk about it.”

“And?” Alec asks, his tone gentle and patient. He knows how difficult this is for Jace.

“And I told him it isn’t going to happen,” Jace says flatly. “Can you imagine? I’ve heard what the other Shadowhunters say about the vampires, I’ve seen how they treat them and the warlocks for being unnatural. I can’t bring them into that.”

Vampires and warlocks are sterile, even the Alphas, something the Nephilim frequently look down on them for even more than the other Downworlders. For a Nephilim to tie themselves to one of them for life is no light matter.

“And with my father…” Jace frowns. “His people would hate him for even considering bringing me into their lives. They’d never trust him again. I can’t do that to him, either.”

“Jace…” Alec starts slowly, sensing Jace’s frustration and pain at what he’s denying himself. “Wouldn’t this be good for you? With your suppressants...”

Everyone knows that there’s a serious risk of infertility issues with suppressants. His father knew when he started giving them to him, and Jace was old enough to understand the risk when he decided to keep taking them. He’d do anything to keep going on missions with Alec and Isabelle, anything to not be further ostracised from the Alphas and Betas the way he saw other Omegas his age were. He’s never allowed himself to get attached enough to anyone else long enough for them to even consider him as a mate, figuring the longer he stayed detached the longer it wouldn’t be an issue for someone other than himself.

Being with a vampire would make it a non-issue. It’d make that aspect of Jace’s life easier, but for Raphael and Simon being mated to him would only bring them trouble; they had nothing to gain and everything to lose, and he’ll be damned if that drive to nurture and protect isn’t overriding everything more than usual just then, even his own well-being.

“No,” Jace repeats firmly. “I can’t do it, Alec. It’s for the best. He has Simon, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about him, Jace. I’m worried about you.” Alec pushes.

“I’ll be fine,” Jace says, knowing the words are a lie. It’s a lie he’s said so many times that he almost believes it himself now. Maybe if he says it often enough, it’ll come true. “I’m always fine.”

---

The intense heat Jace goes into that night is unexpected. His suppressants usually stop them entirely and the few he has experienced were mild. This one comes on suddenly and even now, just at the start, it’s stronger than any he’s experienced in the past… maybe stronger than all of them combined. He tells Izzy to take him off any assignments for the foreseeable future and locks himself inside his room, refusing to speak to or see anyone.

Jace takes every blanket and pillow in his possession and makes a nest in the back corner of his closet. It’s cramped and small and dark, with no scent other than his own and the slightest hint of Alec and Isabelle that always lingers around him, the only other people who occasionally spend time with him in his room. It isn’t enough to bring him comfort. He knows what will since he can’t help the instinctive desire for Raphael and Simon’s scents intruding into his thoughts no matter how desperately he pushes the urge back down, but he refuses to ask for it.

Instead, he gives a loud whine as he buries himself as deep into the corner as he can, which isn’t that much further than he already is. The stone wall around him provides little relief against the spike in his temperature leaving him overheated and uncomfortable no matter how he positions himself. He can’t focus, can’t think for more than a few seconds before the seesaw of lightheadedness and nausea flare up again.

Even Alec’s voice from the other side of his bedroom door barely reaches him, but he does catch some of it despite his best efforts to ignore him.

“Jace, please let me in. At least let me bring you something to eat, or drink.”

“It’s been hours, just let us know you’re alright.”

“Don’t make me break this door down, Jace.”

It’s an empty threat, Jace thinks. He has no idea how many hours, possibly even days, have passed, the blur of his fever haze distorting any sense of time. But even Alec wouldn’t barge in on him like this, no matter how worried he is; he wouldn’t contaminate Jace’s nest during his heat like that, not if Jace wants him out.

“Just leave me alone!” Jace shouts at some point, hoping it’s enough. He shouldn’t turn Alec away - he’s hungry and dehydrated and isn’t sure if the brief moments of respite he gets are sleep or passing out - but he struggles to power through on his own, the way he always has before… not that this is like anything he’s experienced before.

The next time he hears Alec’s voice it’s softer than before. “I know you don’t want me to come in,” Alec starts. “And please don’t be mad at me but… I brought someone else in to help. Please let them.”

And then a voice that sounds like music to his ears in his current state.

“Jace? It’s Raphael. I’m here with Simon. I’d like to come in, if you’d allow me to.”

Jace wants nothing more. It’s all he’s wanted from the start, especially considering it was likely Raphael’s scent that broke through his suppressants and brought all of this on in the first place. Just hearing Raphael’s voice eases something inside of him, and he can only imagine filling the room with his scent.

“You shouldn’t… be here…” Jace manages, but his voice is weak and he hates how fragile it sounds in his own ears. He isn’t sure they can even hear him on the other side of the door.

“Yes, I should. I think you know that as well as I do,” Raphael insists. “May I come inside?”

It’s the fact that Raphael asks again, rather than asserting authority and insisting, that finally breaks Jace.

“Yes,” he chokes out, curling around himself as a wave of lightheadedness passes over him again. “Please.”

Jace hears the door open and close again. “It’s just me,” Raphael says. “But if you want anyone else just tell me and I’ll get them. I brought water and some protein bars that Alec says you like. I can toss them into the closet for you?”

“Yes,” Jace says again, too disoriented to focus on more than that at the moment. Raphael’s small movements are enough to push his scent further into the room, into Jace’s small, safe space, and it’s so much of the comfort he’s craved since this started.

Jace manages to drink some of the water and eat one of the bars.

“I hope it’s alright that I came,” Raphael says, speaking in a soothing, comforting tone. “Alec called me. He said that he’s never seen you get this bad.”

“Did he say… why?” Jace asks, silently cursing Alec for telling Raphael anything, even if it was for his own good.

“No,” Raphael admits, and Jace relaxes with the knowledge that Alec kept his privacy. “And you don’t have to tell me. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. I know you don’t want me here-”

“I do,” Jace cuts in.

“Oh?” Raphael sounds surprised.

His head is swimming. He’s exhausted and for the first time since this began he thinks he might actually be able to fall asleep.

“I’ll tell you, just… later?” Jace knows he sounds desperate but it isn’t a conversation he wants to have here, not like this.

Raphael, thankfully, understands. “Do you want me to leave you alone again?”

Jace considers this. So far he hasn’t even seen the vampire - Raphael stayed outside of the closet, in Jace’s room. He doesn’t know him well enough to want him any closer just now, instincts or not. They’re strangers, and Jace knows he walked away from his chance to talk before, knows he has no right to ask him to stay now, but he does it anyway.

“No. Could you stay a bit? Simon can come in, too. And use the bed, or the chairs, if you want.” Jace can hear from where Raphael’s voice is coming from that he’s sitting on the floor.

There are some noises that seem lightyears away and then Simon is there, his sent mixing with Raphael’s in that perfect fusion Jace remembers from the raid. They stay there with him, sometimes talking to him, sometimes talking to each other, other times in total silence, for the next two days, leaving only to bring him food and water.

Yet Jace can’t help the nagging fear in the back of his head of what the others must think, of what they’ll be saying… the rumors and judgments…

He’s equal parts relieved and terrified when he feels well enough to come out and face them, but he can’t stay hidden away forever.

“How are you feeling?” Raphael asks him almost immediately, worry etched into his expression behind pinched brows and a slight frown.

“Better, thanks to you two.”

“Well, it seems only fair since I have a suspicion this has something to do with our encounter,” Raphael says. True mates have been known to cut through the effects of suppressants, glamours, and other spells, something Raphael must have already put together.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jace says, defaulting to sarcasm and deflecting, even though it’s true.

Simon laughs as Raphael rolls his eyes.

“The others, while you’ve been here, have they been- did they treat you alright?” Jace almost doesn’t want to ask, but he has to know. He knows Alec would, he’s the one who brought them here, but some of the others barely manage to treat Jace decently half the time, and that’s with Alec’s constant protection and threats hanging over their heads.

“Some have,” Raphael admits honestly. “Others not so much. It’s what I expected being in the heart of the Nephilim Institute.”

“You should’ve left,” Jace sighs. “I never should’ve asked you to stay.”

“Are you kidding?” Simon says. “All Raphael did after you left was talk about you and-”

“That’s enough of that,” Raphael cuts him off, but it’s too late. Jace perks up significantly at that knowledge.

“Oh yeah?” Jace manages a slight smirk.

“It wasn’t all I did,” Raphael glares at Simon. “But I was hoping we’d have another chance to at least talk. I wasn’t quite picturing this, of course.”

“Neither was I,” Jace agreed. “But I meant what I said before. It’s not worth the trouble.”

“You mean ‘you’re’ not worth the trouble?” Simon huffs. “Why don’t you let us decide that.”

Jace looks from Simon to Raphael with uncertainty. Why? Why would they want to deal with the harassment and the judgment, just for him? They don’t even know him.

Then again, he doesn’t even know them, and he was already willing to let himself suffer to do what he thought was best for them over his own needs. Is it really so impossible for him to imagine they feel the same?

“My father-”

“Is Valentine,” Raphael fills in, sounding unphased and almost bored. “And you are not your father.”

There’s another long silence.

“We’re not the only ones with something to lose, Omega.” The use of Jace’s status rather than his name is all the insinuation he needs to know what Simon is referring to.

“That isn’t a problem,” Jace says quietly. “I’ve been on suppressants since I was a kid… it was the only way I was allowed to train and go on missions with the others, and, well, even if I was with another Nephilim I don’t think children are in my future.”

Jace doesn’t even realize as he said the words how personal of an admission it is, almost forgetting he’d kept it a secret from everyone other than Alec after the doctors more or less confirmed it to be the case. Normally he’d change the subject, but Raphael and Simon? Jace wanted to tell them. He wanted to let them in, to try at least, even if it turned them away to learn the lengths he’d gone to deny who and what he is as much as possible.

Jace went so far out of his way to avoid this very scenario - one where he’s out of commission for days on end, at the whims of hormones out of his control - one where he appears as weak as everyone expects him to be. This isn’t the strong, furious Shadowhunter who attacked Simon at the Dumort, all power, skill, and control, and that comparison is made even worse by the fact that his suppressants left him unused to heats this intense. He must seem like a total disaster.

Jace wouldn’t blame them for taking one look at him and deciding he isn’t worth the hassle…. except they aren’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry, Jace,” Simon says. Jace is surprised to see genuine sorrow on both of their faces.

“I appreciate you trusting us with that,” Raphael adds.

“You really think we can make this work?” Jace asks. He’s clearly not good at this part of things - it’s going to be difficult to get used to and he’s going to need a lot of help, they have to realize that. And still...

“I think we owe it to ourselves to try,” Raphael says, and Simon nods emphatically beside him.

“There’s plenty you don’t know about us, too. You may decide we’re not worth it in the end.”

Jace snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says, realizing just how invested he really is after the short period of time he’s known them. It should terrify him, but it doesn’t. He wants to make this work, and for the first time Jace allows himself to imagine he might have something serious in his future.

“Alright,” Jace agrees at last. “But first I need to shower for about half a day. Maybe… maybe we can get a drink tomorrow night, and talk some more?”

“Yes! I knew you’d come around. And I know the perfect place-” Simon exclaims, starting to ramble before catching himself and snapping his mouth shut, looking over to Raphael. “I mean, uh, what do you think?”

Raphael, who does his best to look exasperated before his expression softens, finally smiles.

“I think we know the perfect place.”

Jace doesn’t bother to ask where - he’s already pretty certain that the perfect place is wherever the three of them can be together, which is just fine by him.

#shadowhunterbingo #jace herondale #raphael santiago #simon lewis #shadowhunters #raphael/simon/jace #rjs #listen please be kind i've never touched omegaverse in my life #but i TRIED #I had tabs of research open and attempts were made jfdlksjflksa;jf;lads #anyway i love these three and I hope you like my last bingo square fill! <3 #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

[ruffled-serpent]

Lair Review for Kesten

Kesten is up next, y’all know where to look vv

@heckling-hydrena​

Ok wow your lair, with all the tabs and small descriptions is so well organized AND beautiful. Reading the little snippets in your hibden tab descriptions was entirely captivating. I also really like the name you’ve chosen for your city-- and the lore you seem to have written about its origins. Let’s begin:

Johnny

with the amount of stars she has she seems to be a fan favorite! And I can see why. You really made the wine secondary work well by using the accent and dried flowerfall items. The fern and celadon silks are and equally amazing combo, but I especially like how the ringlet gene matches with this whole flowery theme. The hints of gold also marry the two colors well, and overall helps create such a regal and unique looking dragon.

Keegan

Keegan’s design and outfit matches SO well with the Yellow-Throated Sparrowmouse familiar that if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve figured the staff of FR designed this dragon themselves. The pure chaotic energy of this dragon was only confirmed when I scrolled down to the bio and found whispers of “tax fraud” and “he means well but he is also a little evil”. I love him and any mini atrocities that he may be involved in.

Tempest

If I had to describe this dragon with just one sentence it would be “a refreshing, tall glass of cold, sparkling water-- grape flavored of course.” She is elegance with a side of fierce (I mean look at those spikes) and wow I’ve seen double halos layered nicely but this really takes the cake with three whole halos. The top layering of all the purple apparel pieces helps with giving her outfit more depth. I could stare at her all day.

Aoulie

This story teller looks like he came right out of The Never Ending Story. The accent you’ve given him makes me feel like whatever story he’s telling is interwoven with magic to make it come alive, and the moon in the middle really draws the eye in--it’s quite an excellent centerpiece. The layering of the hat and the ghastcrown is incredible. I love how the glowing eyes match with the flowerfall, giving it an overall starry look. 

Antigone

Another incredibly looking regal dragon. I want to immediately point out the amazing gradient this dragon has. Even though the majority of the details of Falcon and Peregrine are covered, they’re still doing a fantastic job for the majority of this Look. I love the combination of the golden seraph and the haunted flame sets, but what really draws this all together is the halo and the accent. Sappho and Antigone make quite the stunning team

Hurste

The wanderer that really brings home the “straight out of a DnD campaign” vibe. You don’t see a lot of dragons that take a FR-made skin and turn it into something completely off the wall good. And with a color palette consisting of four colors, no less. Hurste's design makes use of great contrast and camouflage. I really enjoy what you’ve done with this dragon.

Delphina

Delphina may be a non-lore dragon but she is incredibly stunning. The combination of green and cerulean are always eye-catching. I love the aviation pilot look, while still seeming as tho she may have crash landed into a bramble patch it lets my imagination kind of run wild with her design. And I’m such a sucker for matching eyes. Delphina gets a 10/10 from me.

Sandstone

Sandstone looks like a mystic nomad who is perhaps annoyed that the wind keeps blowing away his tea leaves which are carried in the pouch at his side. It looks like he’s found a home near the altar (that he maybe tends to?). In all seriousness I enjoy how the reds and oranges bring a flash of color to his look. It keeps him interesting while not overwhelming the senses. I would love to accompany him on any journey or listen to any stories he may offer.

Eurydice

Yet again another familiar/dragon combo that just knocks my socks off. I love Eurydice’s ghostly appearance, what with all the lanterns, blue flame, and watery halo. The sage cover combine with the previously mentioned apparel items really give her a mysterious charm. I must also add that I’ve never really liked Edged much before, but in her case it almost looks like little embers floating up and out from the blue fire.

Elijah

Red and blacks will never cease to be a fantastic color combo. But I really must commend you on Elijah’s outfit. I’m going mad over the excellent layering choices, with the sash, the scarf and necklace, fan, banner, and grasp. I need a mop to clean up all my drool over here. Capsule was an excellent choice to use with the grasp, and I like how the throat matches the color of the banner’s button. It’s the little things that make his whole outfit flow.

Honorable Mention: Sawyer

Sawyer is just too good looking NOT to mention. The owlcat skin really works well here, and I love how the feathers poke out just from under the wing armor.

Thank you, Kesten, for getting me to review your lair. You’ve taught me to appreciate FR-made accents more, and I can’t wait to start using them in the future. Good luck on getting some lore written down. Everything seems so fleshed out and well written so far!

#lair reviews #kesten #heckling-hydrena